Second Star to the Right
by Estel Star-Kindler
Summary: Elrond and Elros: two twins, two brothers, two troublemakers... When Elrond is kidnapped by an evil Lord, he discovers not all is as it seems, and his fate rests with a stranger more than he knows. But can Elros get to him in time? Rating- explicit scenes
1. The Inn and the Ambush

**Disclaimer – Let us play a guessing game; I'l give you three clue's as to whom I'm NOT. **

1) I'm not dead.

2) I'm not the creator of the world's most amazing fantasy novel.

3) I'm not Tolkien – savvy?

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**Chapter One – The ****Inn**** and the Ambush**

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In a dark and gloomy in, a shadowy figure sat perched upon a stool by the bar. Cloaked and hooded, its face was hidden from view, and on its hands were worn leather gloves. It fiddled somewhat nervously with its tankard of ale, set down heavily in front of it only minutes before by the beefy bar tender – though it was yet to drink any.

A little to the left of the figure, a large group of about thirty five or so grotesque and fiendish looking men chortled drunkenly and loudly with each other – all save one. A man who was taller than the rest and to the eye far fairer; his sunlit blonde hair fell in soft waves around his ruggedly handsome face, short stubble casting a slight shadow. His forest green eyes were set alight by the fire in the corner, so that they shone like glittering emeralds. Absent-mindedly, he ran a strong and skilled, yet slender finger around the rim of his tankard, also untouched.

He watched the cloaked figure unblinkingly, as if unaffected, or unable to hear the din his fellows made. Before long, the figure began to squirm uncomfortably beneath his piercing gaze. It made to turn its back on him, but he stood up and placed a firm hand on its shoulder.

"Why so tense?" he asked, supposedly concerned; but his eyes betrayed him, for they did not shine with warmth, but with a cold pale, malicious light.

Quickly, the figure pulled away from him, but still turned to face him, albeit rather grudgingly. 

"Like you care." a woman's voice hissed hatefully at him.

"Now, now, my darling," he scorned, "There's no need for that I'm sure."

The woman snorted disbelievingly, and in one sharp fluid movement, the man slapped her sharply across the face. She was swung sideways from the force of the blow, but did not murmur even an utterance of pain. She refused to let him see her weak. Not him – not ever.

"Look at me." he commanded, the merest trace of decency that had been in his voice now hastily evaporated.

Stiffly, the woman shifted to sit equal to him once more. He raised his hands to her face and she flinched back. She mentally cursed herself as he chuckled and carefully, leaning over her so closely she could feel his breath on her cheek, he drew back her hood.

"Ahh," he grinned, an unreadable emotion on his features, "Now that's much better, darling."

A cascade of feminine copper-coloured curls, released from their bonds, sprung lightly down her back, almost reaching the seat of the stool she sat on. Her milky white skin was flushed slightly with the heat from the fire, and from her lips ran a small trickle of blood. Her black eyes glared at him loathsomely, searing into him, trying to cause all the damage they could. 

"Don't look so happy, Carandol," he snided sarcastically, "the boys may feel they want a part of it." His eyes flashed with sick amusement as the faintest trace of fear flickered across her face.

"You're despicable." she spat.

"Keep that sharp tongue of your in you head, darling," he growled dangerously.

"Make me." she tempted him daringly.

"Don't tempt me."

"Its – _beings, like you, that have made this once peaceful world the tortured and torn way it is."_

"Aye?" he questioned, "Is that so? Well, if I'm here, and you're the one who got kidnapped, I'd say we must be doing something right, mustn't we, darling?" He laughed, a hollow mirthless sound.

"What do you want with me?" she demanded.

"Well," he said, now tracing a hand over up her swan-like neck and unsullied cheeks and jaw line, "Pretty little like you, darling? You'll fetch a pretty little price, see?"

She jerked her head backwards and continued to glare as him, seething hatred of this awful man coursing white hot through her veins.

"You're pathetic."

"Maybe… But that's not all you have a use for. That is to say, being an out law and all… can be a very long, lonely life, in the wild… cold and _loveless_ nights… and I was hoping you could help me there." A wide grin verging on insane spread once again across his lips as she forgot all pretence, and jumped up and backwards in horror.

"Ah, so it does have emotions!" he roared with laughter.

Her eyes continued to bear into his, but now in plain fear.

"You – you – I'll –"

"You'll what?" Don't make empty threats darling, merely a waste of breath. And unless you start being a little nicer – that breathe of yours might just start running out…"

Tearing her eyes away from his passionately glowing emerald orbs, she noticed him fingering a blood-stained keen edged dagger at his side eagerly.

"Get some sleep, darling," he jeered, "You're going to need it."

Horrified with how she'd let him get to her, and how his face with etched with pure savageness, she fled the common room of the inn and flew up the stairs to the cupboard sized room she was to sleep in, followed all the way by the hauntingly tyrannical cackling from all the men.

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The new day dawned bright and fresh over the damp marshes around the mouth of the river Sirion, and a low pale mist hovered dreamily over the reeds. Wader birds paddled noisily throughout the shallow waters, hidden from view in the long grasses that rustled in the gentle autumn breeze, and the sea shimmered like a thousand uncovered diamonds, with littered rubies hinting a red sunrise. Over head, snowy white and silver grey guys called a morning chorus to those who still lay in slumber in the peaceful and quiet dwellings of Eärendil and Elwing.

 Yet this morning, as like to many other, half of Elwing's bed lay cold and empty, her husband once more sailing afar, daring to cross all boundaries laid upon his kind, and to trace beyond hope the path to a place of dreams. And another, perhaps more joyous familiarity of this day break was that once again, Eärendil's twin sons, Elros and Elrond, were yet again out on the flat, drier grounds a little way from the elven homes.

Elros let out a long low whistle as a golden shafted arrow went whizzing past his sea-grey eyes, slicing cleanly through the air, to land dead in the centre of the makeshift target board.

"Not bad, brother." shrugged Elros. Elrond merely raised his eyebrow as he reached for another arrow.

"Not bad? Elros, last time you missed the board." he reminded his twin in an offhanded manner. Elros blushed a little. 

"You heard Talan, he'll fix his arm up in no time," he scowled, "But at least I can hold a sword!"

"Sure you can." muttered Elrond, fitting another slender arrow to his bow, brushing his rich autumn brown hair out of the way.

So it was every morning, and so it had been for the best part of fifteen years, ever since the twins had been able to wield their own weapons sufficiently. Granted, at first they had both been nothing short of terrible, though now they were both almost expertly skilled, and it was something of a common knowledge to the villagers that their techniques bore striking resemblances to their father. They were practically the same as the mariner in stature; taller and lean, the elven keenness in their eyes constantly alight, the sharpness of their elven features hinted determinedly with the sturdy bloodline of man.

In mind however, both were two contrasting characters; Elros, the slightly elder, was plainly the most forward and quick-minded of the two. Both clever and somewhat of a trouble maker, Elros had caused many a chaotic uproar in their home. Elrond on the other hand, tended to be more refined, and as a result he often bore the brunt of his brother's jokes and tricks. Elrond also seemed to possess a kind of rich wisdom, even from a young age, that was not apparent in Elros, an implied deeper knowledge, inherited no doubt from his elven kin.  

Elrond released his second arrow, watching as it soared gracefully towards the target, and grinned proudly as it cut straight through his previous try in one deadly swipe, so that golden feathers fluttered softly to the ground, and wooden splinters dangled uselessly from the board.

"Alright, you show off," laughed Elros, rolling his eyes to the azure domed skies, "You know what you're doing, I'll give you that. But how's your sword play?" he frowned mockingly, and in a flash of steel whipped out his newly forged weapon.

Elrond lowered his bow, his eyebrow once again raised.

"One of these days, you're going to challenge the wrong person." he told his chuckling brother.

"Well, we all know that wrong person isn't you, so I'd say were ok, wouldn't you?" he replied quickly, eyes sparkling.

"Elros, I really need to practice –"

"Ah, don't be so stupid, we both know you're the best archer around for miles. And besides, if we practice combat now before its hot, then you can keep cool by doing your archery later!" he suggested reasonably.

Grudgingly realising his twin did actually make a very valid point, Elrond laid his bow aside, and drew his sword from its sheath. Both his and his brothers had been gifts from their father when he had returned from a voyage last week, though he had since returned to sea. The hilt was laced with mithril patternings and protective inscriptions were inlaid and woven in pure silver up the cold bright blade. Each bore the same elvish spell, which when translated read: 'May I defend thee from those of the dark, and lead thee ever triumphant to the light.'

Both boys carefully began circling one another, their eyes narrowed as they concentrated entirely on the slightest movements of their twin. The sun flashed scarlet and gold on the brilliantly bright uncovered swords as they moved flawlessly in fluid motions around.

Suddenly, Elros lunged forward so that Elrond forced to step back and defend himself. Swordsmanship never had been his strongest point, preferring the light bow; that said, he was still more skilled than many. 

In a daring move, Elrond pushed back hard with a defending stroke and sent his brother stumbling backwards, this time he himself lunging. Elros skilfully dodged the well-aimed blade, and used his own to send Elrond back to his original spot.

"That made for a change, brother." grinned Elros, the light of mischief rife in his eyes.

Elrond rolled his own, and couldn't help but to dread slightly what he had planned next, when a large band of riders came thundering out of a nearby wood. Startled, Elrond lowered his sword so that Elros swiftly took the opportunity to knock it clean out of his hands and pressed his blade against Elrond throat. Elrond frowned at the look of glee on his brother's face, and with his index finger carefully pushed the point away.

"Elros, you cheated," he said somewhat distractedly, still staring a little confused at the galloping group of horses, heading straight for them.

"No I didn't!" exclaimed Elros, feigning a look of deep hurt, "How could you even think such a thing!"

"Mmn…" said Elrond, raising his eyebrow yet again, "Elros, who are those riders? You're eyes are better than mine."

Elros span around sharply and peered at them, the ground between the boys and the horses rapidly loosing distance.

"I don't –" he began, but was cut off by a black shafted arrow sailing so close over his head that it ruffled his hair.

The twins took one look at each other…

"RUN!" they yelled simultaneously, and as Elrond grabbed his sword from the floor, the pair sprinted at full pelt down the hill towards the village.

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By now, the horses were so close they could hear their heavy breathing filling the air, the ground itself vibrating with their wildly driven pounding hoof beats. The harsh cries of fey men rang out gratingly across the sloping hilltop as they waved crude wooden clubs and many rustic swords. Elrond glanced fearfully over his shoulder; their blackened and rotten teeth, at least those that were left jutted out at odd angles, a revolting stench radiating from them. Shaggy mud coloured hair was wind swept out of their weathered faces, each with wide, almost frog-like eyes, all full of cruel malice.

Elrond gasped in a mixture of fear and repulsion, and as he did so he missed the large tuft of grass at his feet, and before he knew it he had tripped and been sent flying head first through the air, to land with a heavy bump and a sickening crunch on the ground meters away.

Behind, the riders roared and cackled with insane laughter, and each yanked hard on the mouths of their horses to pull to an abrupt stop, encircling the young man who lay in a crumpled heap in front of them.

"Stupid blighter!" grunted one, so that the rest threw back their unkempt heads and howled as a wolf to the full moon. One in particular, who did not look so ruficious, indeed in a way noble, stepped forward, reining in his dusty dun coloured stallion. With a deadly look at his men silence fell immediately, and he smirked down at Elrond, who was fighting to remain conscious, having suffered a heavy blow to his head when he fell.

"Strange," sneered the man in an oily voice, "And here we were thinking elves were agile. Then again, you're only part elf, aren't you?" His white blonde hair glinted in the still early sun as he jeered at his captive.

"Tie him up and get him on a horse." he ordered suddenly, so that two swarthy men jumped to the ground, "You shall tend to him later when we rest." he commanded pointedly to a smaller cloaked and hooded figure, which nodded rather jerkily.

The man snorted. "Hurry up!" he snarled as the two men hauled Elrond's body up onto a black, mud-stained horse. With his last few seconds of consciousness, he felt them roughly tying his hands tightly to the pommel, and heard a voice whisper venomously in his ear, so that a shiver was sent down his spine, "Only half elf – but a pretty little price."

After that, his vision slipped out of focus and he slumped sideways lifelessly in the saddle.

From the bottom of the hill, Elros watched helplessly was the host about turned and quick a lightening disappeared over the brow in a swirl of horse's tails, and hoof flung morning dew.

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Ok, so, what did you think of that, my lovely little chickadee's??? Mucho good? Alas my brain hurts??? Tell me, oh mighty reviewer – and if you do so, you get a free drink of your choice with a complimentary straw.


	2. In Darkness and in Doubt

**Disclaimer – ****Erm… did I put one in the first chapter??? Yes? Good – so we've all established that I'm:**

**1) **Not dead?****

**2) **Not rich beyond my wildest dreams?****

**3) **Not Tolkien?****

**Goody!!! Now, on with the stuff……..**

**A/N**** – Ok, in a review from the first chapter, Altril Narmolanya suggested that I should put this into the Simarillion category, so I have. Just so you know really, nothing too detrimental. **

**Reviews**

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**Altril**** Narmolanya – ****Well, thank you very much for you review, and as you can see I've moved it to the Simarillion category!**

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**DarkSiaph**** – **Thank you – but I don't quite understand how the summary was misleading… Could you expand???****

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**Chapter Two – In Darkness and in Doubt**

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Elros ran frantically down to the village as fast as his feet would carry him without stumbling, yelling and shouting as he went.

"HELP! SOMEONE, HELP ME, PLEASE!" he cried in the early morning sunlight. A high window to a house behind him flew open to reveal a ruffled looking man of about twenty five, his messy ginger hair sticking up all over the place.

"What the bloody hell -?" he began, and leaned on the window sill to show his right arm in a sling.

"TALAN, ELROND, THEY'VE TAKEN HIM!" clamoured Elros, feeling desperately alone.

"What? Slow sown Elros, you're making no sense." said Talan confused, frowning down at the clearly terrified young man.

"There were riders – when we were practicing – they came from the woods – we ran but Elrond – he tripped – AND NOW THEY'VE TAKEN HIM!" shouted Elros bitterly. This was all his fault, if only he had stayed by his brothers side, if only he had helped him… 

"What's all this infernal racket about?" demanded a grouchy voice. Around him, windows began flinging irritably open as the sleepy-eyed inhabitants tried to find the source of the noise.

"Who –? Elros! I might have known," growled an old man scoldingly, "What is it this time? Wolves? Orcs? Pigs with wings?"

The awakening villagers half guffawed, half grunted in agreement.

"No!" replied Elros angrily. His brother had been kidnapped, it was all his fault and they were laughing at him!

"Well what then?" croaked another elder's a voice, a wispy-haired woman.

"Some riders – they just captured Elrond!"

This did not have the effect Elros had desired; instead of looks of horror, they each scowled oppressively down at him, muttering amongst themselves.

"That's a nasty trick to play, Elros." scorned the old man.

Trick? What in the name of all that was holy -? They thought he was joking?!

"You reckon I'm doing this for fun?" he bellowed, rage building up inside him – why wouldn't they listen, Elrond's time was running out!

"For fun? I've never been more serious in my life!" he roared, waving his fists at them all. Why couldn't they see?

"Aye, and last time it was dragons on the border," scoffed another man with lanky black hair, "Do you really think we're going to fall for this again?" At this a cheer of approval went up from the houses.

"I – AM – NOT – PLAYING – TRICKS!" Elros burst out in a tidal wave of fury, so that the villagers stepped back from their windows aghast. Elros' eyes seemed to glow with an internal raging fire, and it appeared to them that he grew taller than any man, so that they cowered beneath him.

"What's all this about? What's going on?" A soothing, balm voice floated down through the village, pausing for a moment the feud between Elros and the men. The older twin turned to see his mother Elwing, her golden hair billowing in the sea breeze, her wise sea-grey eyes filled with worry from what she saw.

"Elros my son, what is going on?" she repeated a little condescendingly.

"Mother – we were practicing up on the hill, but out of the woods came riders – we tried to escape but Elrond tripped and fell – and –"

"Hush, my son," shushed Elwing in a calming tone, "What happened?"

Elros took a deep breath, and drooped his head, "They took him. They took Elrond."

Elwing froze. No, not now, this couldn't be happening…

"W-what do you mean, 'they took Elrond'?" she asked, her voice a little shaky.

"They rode away with him, over the hill. A small host of mounted men."

Elwing drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Who here doubts the word of my son?"

Silence. Even the sea-gulls themselves hushed their crying to listen to the Lady's words.

"Well?"

"My Lady, we did not mean to offend –"

"Truly, we were merely assessing –"

"Assessing what?" Elwing cut in sharply, as her eyes snapped open.

"T-the situation, my Lady." replied the startled man.

"You were assessing the situation from your bedroom window in you night clothes?" She raised her right eye brow disbelievingly.

The man hung his head, murmuring a quiet and muffled apology.

"Be quiet, Oslarn, I do not want to hear your excuses," she said curtly, "You will organise a small scout group to search the hilltop and forest eaves. if the evidence points, as Elros says, that Elrond has indeed been kidnapped, then inform me at once. Do I make myself clear?"

Once again, murmurs and mutterings ran through the village, this time accompanied by swift and vigorously nodding heads.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" sighed Elwing, "Move!"

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It was hours since the last golden rays of warming sunlight had vanished beyond the horizon and been swallowed up by the vast ocean, when the horsemen finally drew to a halt. 

Elrond's head pounded furiously from his fall, as though all the Dwarves of Moria hammered away in his skull, and he couldn't even begin to comprehend the distance they had travelled since dawn. For most of the journey he had been unconscious, but his new surroundings overwhelmed him, and confirmed his belief that he was completely out of his reckoning.

The refreshing salty sea breeze he had always so loved to blow across his skin was now replaced with a bitter and biting wind, so that it sent shivers down is spine and made his hair stand on end. The wide, largely flat and unchanged marshlands of his home had long since disappeared, and around him now the men began to make a camp for the night, just beneath the eaves of an immense and eerily foreboding forest. Staring up at it, Elrond couldn't help but to feel incredibly wary of the mammoth, giant like trees, larger than any he had ever before seen, towering over them all ominously, their great claw like branches reaching out to snap and grab at them.

Suddenly, the two men who had secured him in the saddle that morning came swaggering over, leering horribly at him.

"Ahh, scared of the trees, little elf-boy?" snarled one, showing half a set of chipped and yellowed teeth as his fellow sniggered, "Afraid they might hurt you?"

Elrond had enough sense to know not to reply, but the look he shot them would have made the greatest warriors wither before his gaze. They cowered slightly, watching with intense caution the glowing light that seemed to emit from his eyes.

"Hurry up, you lazy slobs!" an angry voice whirled about in the wind. The men hastily stumbled forward and began fumbling with the bonds on his hands, Casting the rope aside, they grabbed his arm and gruffly pulled him from the saddle, so that he landed heavily and painfully on his right hip.

Wincing in pain, Elrond was half dragged, half carried along the floor to a large boulder quite near o where the others had started a fire. Here they dumped him carelessly down, and roughly tied his hands once more, this time more forcefully behind his back. Elrond tried to struggle against the thick rope, but the knot was so tight he succeeded only in burning his hands so they stung more painfully, the rope cutting into his wrist so severely that blood was drawn, and oozed slowly out. Chortling and guffawing amongst themselves, the men stepped back, but hovered just behind the boulder.   

Elrond hung his head and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the steadily increasing pains searing up his arms and shoulders, biting his tongue so as not to make a noise. 

He felt the presence for before him, rather than heard them. Slowly, he opened his eyes and raised his head, to meet the maliciously voice, blonde-haired man he'd seen earlier.  He stared down hard at the half elf, his head titled slightly to one side as though studying him. For a while neither of them spoke, so that the movement and mindless drabble from the men could clearly be heard calling all around them. Taking a deep breath, it was Elrond who finally broke the silence. 

"What do you want with me?" he asked. He did not demand, but there was easily a definite tone in his voice that the man did not miss.

"Ah now, but that would be telling, wouldn't it, dear Elrond?" His eyes sparkled with a vicious intent that caused Elrond to tear his gaze away. There was something about his eyes, those glittered, emerald eyes that made him want to hide away where their piercing glare could not find him. 

"How – how do you know my name?" stuttered Elrond, faltering slightly as his confidence rapidly faded. He almost physically jumped to run away as the man crouched down in front of him, and as he rested at eye level, Elrond felt his stomach churn, and his heart was going so fast he was sure it was missing beats. Why did this man, this _nobody_, render him so terrified?

"I know many thing about you, dear Elrond," replied the man mysteriously, "More than you could imagine." An insane light lingered momentarily across his face, but the next second it was gone. 

"What is your name? Why have you kidnapped me?" questioned Elrond, this time careful to gaze just past the shoulder of the man.

"My name?" he uttered softly, as his golden hair was blown gently in the chilling gusts, "As far as you are concerned, my name is Káno."

"Commander…" murmured Elrond.

"That'd be right." nodded Káno. 

"Káno – why am I here?" repeated Elrond, still staring carefully past the mans ear.

Káno leaned forward, and just as he had that morning, whispered dangerously in his ear, "A magician never reveals his secrets… and some tales are best left 'til it is light…"

Elrond shuddered involuntarily, as Káno drew himself up to his full height.

"Don't wish your life away, dear Elrond," he said, almost wisely, "You shall find out soon enough."

And with a final smirking glance, in a swish of a cloak he left Elrond alone as the men busied themselves about him.

For a while, he sat there in silence, desperately thinking of ways to escape… if he could just undo the ropes binding his hands, he could wait until the camp were asleep, steal a horse and go… where? He had no idea where he was, whether in a land of the friends of his kin or not. Where would he go? Surely he would not survive long in this barren wild land without supplies of food and water.

Before long his thoughts of slipping away became more and more bleak as the long, cold night set in fully around him. His teeth began chattering uncontrollably as he screwed himself up into the tightest ball he could, his whole body shaking and shivering in the near freezing temperatures.

Quite suddenly, he saw his sense of vision blocked completely, so that he feared he had lost his sight, when he realised a silent figure had halted before him, carrying two think blankets and a small bundle. It set about laying the first blanket down and unraveling the bundle, not taking a blind bit of notice of Elrond. He watched curiously for a moment, then very carefully cat up.

"Excuse me?" he inquired gently, leaning forward a little. The figure whipped its head up alarmed, but seemed to relax when it saw him.

 "Oh – I didn't realise you were awake." she said bluntly, pulling a small loaf of bread and a water skin from the bundle.

Elrond was incredibly surprised to hear a woman's voice – here, of all places – and couldn't help but to wonder what she was doing out with this savage bunch of miscreants. 

"I'm sorry I startled you –" began Elrond, but was cut of by the woman's brisk tone. 

"Sure, whatever, save it elf-boy. I'm not here to be your friend, I'm here because I have to be, get it?" She thrust the loaf and water at Elrond, who for a moment, stared open mouthed at her. Had he said or done anything to offend her in any way? He didn't think so…

"Well? Are you going to take it or not?" she asked, then as an after thought added, "And you're catching flies elf boy, shut your trap."

"I can't take it, my hands are tied up." replied Elrond a little more harshly than he would have done normally, provoked by the woman's rather rude comment.

"Well I'm not baby feeding you." she snorted, sitting back on her feet. As she did so, a strong blast of air caught the tip of her hood and flung it backwards, revealing a young woman of possibly no more than 20 herself, with a fiery light in her coal black eyes. For a fleeting second, Elrond was reminded of Káno; but his had shown no emotion, no warmth. Hers were practically ablaze with a wild rage, kept in check, he assured himself, by the fact that they were both prisoners.

"Why don't you untie my hands?" hinted Elrond, turning slightly to emphasize his point.

She leant back and gave him a look of deep disgust.

"How stupid do you really think I am?" she sneered. 

Elrond decided not to reply to this question…

"Well how am I supposed to eat then?"

"Use your feet, eat it off the floor – you really think I care?" she rolled her eyes.

"But that's ridiculous!" said Elrond indignantly. With every moment that passed, he was growing to like this woman less and less.

"Not my problem, is it? All I was meant to do was bring you blankets and food – and if you hadn't noticed, luxury ain't exactly common around here." she smirked, throwing the other blanket at him so that it covered his head. Feeling by now completely fed up with this extremely annoying and immature girl, he shook his had angrily and dislodged the layer as she laughed at him. 

"What is your problem, anyway?" he hissed. The woman stopped laughing abruptly and looked a little taken back.

"Well, if you're going to be like that…" she trailed off, and made to get to her feet.

"Wait," said an exasperated Elrond, "What's your name?"

The woman climbed to her feet, brushing herself off as she stared down at him.

"What's yours first." she demanded.

"Elrond," he managed through clenched teeth, "My name is Elrond."

"Is that so? Well Elrond, my name is Nesial, and before you ask me again no, I will not untie your hands, nor will I baby feed you. Sweet dreams, elf boy." And with that, she stalked off between the loudly snoring mounds on the floor that the confused Elrond could only guess were the pathetic excuses for men.

**Whey hey, another chapter!!!! What did you think? What will happen to our ****favourite Elven Lord? Who are Káno – and Nesial? Please review!**


	3. Dreams and a Harsh Reality

**Disclaimer – ****No, my dearest, dearest readers… I am not Tolkien. Or any family member. Or in fact anyone who receives any money of any kind for any of his works. Shame really…**

**A/N**** – Ok. Now, I know that this should really be in the Simarillion section. But its not, savvy? My reasons are… Strange, to say the least. Please just ignore them. ^_^**

**Reviewers**

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**Rather pathetically, I have one person to reply to. ONE PERSON! Dark Saiph, you are my new best friend. Lol, of course, I accept that apology! I've done similar stuff myself before now… But then again, a good bit of grovelling couldn't do any harm… ~_^ Lol, thank you and I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!!! Speaking of which… **

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**Chapter Three – Dreams and a Harsh Reality**

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That night, Elrond lay shivering beneath his blanket, his teeth chattering and murmuring in his sleep. His dreams were plagued with ghostly, haunting figures and shadows, whispering and calling eerily to him from a starless void of darkness.

"_Come to us…" they said, "__Follow us, come unto the gloom…"_

No, replied Elrond in his mind, trying to step back, no, I will not follow you…

"_You must, Peredhil… you will… come to us…"_

"You cannot make me!" Elrond shouted fiercely yet even as he did so, he felt his strength to pull from the voices ebbing away.

"_Come to us…"_

"No… no," breathed Elrond, his mind growing weaker. He felt the shadows draw in around him, envelop him in an immense raven blanket, suffocating him. He tried to 

struggle, but his limb hung limply by his sides, his gaping mouth giving no sounds. "No…"

"_It is too late… you cannot go back…"_

It's a dream, Elrond thought desperately, I'll wake up… wake up…

"WAKE UP!" A frustrated voice bellowed deafeningly in his ear, and he was jolted from sleep with an abrupt elbow in his ribs. He sprang up straight, looking wildly around him for his attacker, momentarily forgetting where he was, and frowning in a confused fashion at the scene around him.

"Flippin' heck, elf-boy, what are you, a log or something?" said a shrill, agitated voice, "I thought you were part elf!"

The memories of the day and night before came speeding back, hitting him like a ton of bricks so that he actually physically wavered a little. Rubbing his chest where Nesial had hit him, he felt her shadow looming over him.

"What the –"

"Shut up and get moving!" she snapped, already shoving him off the blankets to roll them up, "Its alright for some of us ain't it, muttering sweet nothings in out sleep…" she added under her breath.

"What?" said Elrond, alarmed.

"You were talking in your sleep – and you shouldn't have been sleeping in the first place!" she scolded him as she hurled the rolled up blankets to a couple of thugs behind her. They grunted in a troll like way, and trudged off to pack them away.

"What – what's going on?" asked Elrond a little blurrily. In being woken from sleep so suddenly, he had not noticed the commotion around him; all of the men were running around, hastily carrying or packing things onto the horses which were being tacked up at a startling rate.

"Moving on, ain't we?" explained Nesial hauling him to his feet, her copper curls in a careful braid down her back.

"Where are we going?" frowned Elrond as she marched him towards the horses.

"Oh please, elf-boy, do you really think they're going to tell me?" She rolled her eyes as she had done so many times the night before. Elrond felt a slight and mild twinge of annoyance, but held his tongue.

"Come on, foot in the stirrup, I'll help you up," and with a surprisingly strong upwards movement, she pushed him up into the saddle. He swayed for a second but balanced himself soon enough as she fumbled with the rope around his hands.

"What are you doing?" said Elrond curiously, staring down at her.

"I was told to get you on a horse, secure your hands to the pommel –"

"I gathered that, but why you?" cut in Elrond sharply. For a split-second, Nesial seemed to freeze, to hesitate, but the ropes were soon undone.

"They're – they're busy," she stated lamely, now tying his hands to the saddle. 

Elrond furrowed his brow, but did not respond. He was no fool, he had lived with Elros for twenty odd years, and he had an acute sense for knowing when someone was up to something.

Nesial heard a brisk voice call behind her, and span around to see Káno standing with his hood drawn mysteriously over his face on the far side of the camp. 

"Stay here," she ordered him, and hurried off to meet her captor. 

"How am I going to move, I'm tied to a tied up horse!" Elrond called out irritably after her, though if she heard him she took no notice.

He watched her suspiciously as she walked up to Káno, her footsteps now slow and careful, her head bowed down slightly. From where he sat, though he had a view over the heads of the men, he couldn't make out either of their faces, nor could he hear them over the troll-like men's clamour. As far as he could tell, Nesial appeared to be listening intently to the commander, his stance tall and leering.

Suddenly, Elrond could only guess that he had said something that angered her, for her head shot up and her hands were thrown up in the air in resentment and bitterness. Above the calamity of the things around him, Elrond heard her shout something indignantly. Káno stepped forwards so that their faces were merely inches away, and Elrond saw Nesial drop her fierce pose and then turn her head away in what he could only guess to be disgust. Then, with a final glance of what Elrond could only suppose from his distance was loathing, she stalked haughtily away from him, her head held high in the air. Momentarily Káno watched after her, the hood casting dark shadows over his unreadable face. He must have noticed Elrond's staring, for he snapped his head sharply upwards, gazing directly at him and grinning maliciously. Elrond felt his blood run cold – something was definitely up, he knew it.

"Everyone ter the 'orses!" boomed a scathing and harsh voice, and at once it seemed, no man was left on his feet.

Beneath Elrond, the scrawny, mud-stained and dusty beast yawned and rested its back leg lazily, its eyes drooping.

"Don't put yourself out too much," Elrond muttered at it.

"Whadya say?" asked a broad-shouldered, one eyed man gruffly, slurring his words.

"I didn't say anything."

"Oh – right… "said the man, looking confused.

"Nitwit," breathed Elrond.

"Men!" a commanding, familiar voice roared, "We ride north! Keep to the forest edge!"

Elrond spun in his saddle to see Káno once more astride his dun steed, which neighed and reared fiercely, its front legs kicking wildly out before it hit the floor with a heavy thud and launched of into a gallop, skirting the forest eaves.

In a great swirl of dust and a disunited stampede, the men charged after him, Elrond's horse bound by means of a rope to another. On they rode, for nigh on four hours straight, without so much as a change in pace; apparently, the horses were far more athletic than they looked. On and on they galloped, breaking only a small sweat, their rhythmatic hoof beats continuous and unbroken.

Around them, the scenery changed little, though in the far off distance, Elrond's keen elven laced eyes spied the dark hazy outline of mountains on the horizon. But they were still days away.

Glancing to his right, Elrond let out a small gasp of surprise, though the sound went unnoticed by the others; Nesial rode her own strawberry roan mare freely, her hands  unbound, her face set and stern, staring adamantly forwards. What on earth was she doing? Surely, if she was a prisoner, then she too should be bound, as he was? But then, Elrond realised, where would she go is she were to chance escape? The rest of the company would be on her in seconds. Yet the same went for Elrond… so why was he bound, and she not? Elrond pondered this for the rest of the duration of the journey, until they paused briefly in mid afternoon for food.

Once again, Elrond was pulled from the saddle, though this time he was able to walk of his own accord, something his stiff and aching legs welcomed gratefully. He was sat near the outskirts of the group, who did not start a fire but savagely ripped and tore at old cooked meat between themselves, slurping noisily at their water bottles. 

Elrond watched them with increasing revulsion, until Nesial sat herself by his feet carrying bread for them both. 

"His _Majesty says I've got to feed you," she mumbled irritably (when didn't she?!) tearing a piece off the crusty, half stale loaf. "Open wide, elf-boy!"_

Elrond raised an eyebrow sardonically at her.

"Oh, you think I'm liking this?"  she scorned, her own eyebrows raised, "Come on, you need food, so lets just get this over and done with, yeah?"

Very reluctantly giving into the loud rumbling noises his stomach had been making since Nesial had mentioned food, he opened his mouth and allowed her to put the bread inside. It was horrible, plain, tasteless stuff, something he wouldn't ordinarily consider feeding even to an animal, but he was so hungry. He chewed and swallowed it hurriedly, waiting for more when a sudden thought crossed his mind; Thank the Valar Elros couldn't see him now…

"You hungry are you, elf-boy?" laughed Nesial, and popped more bread into his mouth. As he ate it, she watched him carefully, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"What?" said Elrond, swallowing hard and almost choking on the desert dry bread.

"Nothing," she grinned, tearing some bread off for herself, still watching him. 

"After finishing the loaf between them, Nesial pulled out a half-full water skin. 

"Come on elf-boy, tilt your head back slightly…" She leant forward to tip it down his throat, but Elrond felt himself wanting to pull back. He was uncomfortable with this whole situation – but his throat was like sand paper, and admitting defeat he readily gulped down the freezing water as if he had never drunk before, feeling his throat do numb as he did so.

"Whoa, elf-boy, that's for both of us, you know!" protested Nesial, taking the skin away, "Besides, you'll get cramp when you ride." She nodded knowingly at him. 

Ride… that reminded him of something…

"Nesial?" he asked suddenly, "Whose Káno? I mean really?"

Nesial frowned but put the skin down, wiping the water from her mouth.

"You mean you haven't heard the stories?" she said disbelievingly, eyeing him with something between suspicion and shock.

"Stories?" echoed Elrond eagerly, leaning forward, "What stories?"

Nesial glanced warily about her.

"I'll tell you more tonight when we make camp, " she told him in an undertone, "But Káno ain't his real name,  as you probably guessed. To tell the truth, I don't know who or what he is – I doubt anyone does. But from what I can gather, he's some sort of well – well, for lack of a better word, _wizard_. Not in the good sense mind; but then I don't really know anything about him."

"Well you know more than I do, and that's a start, " Elrond pointed out, "Go on."

"Well," Nesial paused and shifted uneasily, "I've heard one story. There was a village up north, and he had – shall we say, dealings, with some of the men. One day, for some reason they called what ever deal they had going off. I don't know what this business was, but I think its safe to say they definitely weren't going to be good. So these men pull out of the deal one night, and Káno is in a right rage; stands in the village square, ranting and raving, cursing them all – the whole lot of them – before he galloped off. From what I've heard, no one got any word from that village for days, until a nearby settlement sent out scouts. Every single person in that village was dead; men, women, children, even the bloody horses were goners. All the same way – and let me tell you, it wasn't a pretty sight. There wasn't a sole survivor in that village – it was a massacre."

Elrond leaned back a little, feeling slightly sick.

"You alright, elf-boy?"

"If there were no survivors, then how did that story come to be?" questioned Elrond cryptically, more to himself than to Nesial. She, however, froze in mid-thought and furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Never mind, " said Elrond, shaking his head.

But it seemed that she wouldn't have had the chance to mind, even had she wanted to for all around them, the men began clambering clumsily back up onto their horses, which for the most part snorted and continued to munch on the course, straw-like grasses that grew from the earth.

"Got to go!" she mouthed, and hurried off to her own steed.

"Oh – fine." drawled Elrond sarcastically, as two more thugs came to haul him back astride his horse. As they re-tied his hands to the saddle, he felt someone brush past his leg, and looking down he saw Káno, his emerald eyed gleaming like a serpents. 

"I'll be having a chat with you tonight, Master Elrond," he told him mockingly, "Seems we have a few… Priorities, to sort out." And before Elrond could even open his mouth to reply, he had strode off, cackling to himself. 

So as they set off again, Elrond heard Nesial's voice echoing in his mind; '_There wasn't a sole survivor in that village…' And with a feeling of growing dread sinking down in his stomach, he cantered off with the company, still no closer to finding out why he was there._

~

**Oooooh****…. Nasssssty goings on, preccciousss! Lol, so what are your almighty and treasures verdicts??? Oh, and did anyone see the Pirate of the **Caribbean****** reference in there? I only put it in for… no real reason. ^_^ So feed back is overly welcome people!**


	4. Your Master and Commander

**Disclaimer: ****Oh deary, deary me… Twould seem that I'm not Tolkien after all! No matter what my delusional mind would have me think… Sigh**

**A/N : ****Well, hello there again! ^_^ Well, I can officially say that I'm on a _Second Star spree… This chapter is far longer than the others, and I've literally just started the fifth – so you should have that without the longer and vaguely annoying wait! ^_~ Erm… Don't think there's really too much to comment on, other than this chapter gets extremely distressing from Elrond's point of view, and it's a lovely bit of tear him apart slowly… Quite proud of it really! You know when you just get that exhilarating feeling when writing or reading something? I definitely got that in the second half of this chapter, I was practically __living off of it… ^_^ _**

**But enough of my mindless and annoying rambles! **

**Reviewer replies**

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**DarkSaiph – ****Suspense – why thank you! ^_^ Ah, but you did get the pirates thing… You even pointed it out yourself!!! _"No survivors? Then where do the stories come from I wonder?" _Ah… I love Captain Jack Sparrow! Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

**Sareh**** – Yo girlfriend, wasasssup?!! ^_~ I am indeed posting more! I dunno if I should actually keep posting SSttR on the n/r boards – I've been posting this chapter there, but no one's taking a blind bit of notice. I might just keep posting it here, coz no one cares about it… sniff Its one of my fave's as well! But there you go – apparently no one likes to read fics about Elrond… sigh Anyway, anough of my heart spilling – ok, exaggeration – enjoy the chapter! ^_^**

**~**

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**Chapter Four – Your Master and Commander**

Elrond couldn't even begin to fathom how long he had been in the saddle. Everything ached; his back from the forced upright riding position; his eyes stung with the cold, an staring at the same rugged, barren landscape for hours beyond reckoning; his hands from the bitter frozen air as the icy wind raced around him, though the small blood flow allowed through his bonds helped to numb that. His unusually faithful, if rather unkempt and rough black steed had not faltered one step, nor had he tired; indeed, none of the horses seemed to be worn out, and though their breathing was deep and heavy all around him, not a single one had broken a sweat. 

In an attempt to trace the amount of time they had been riding, Elrond thought back to when they had first started off again. It must have been four hours at least that they had continued to skirt the forest eaves. Eerie though its shadowy realm had been, Elrond found himself wistfully missing it now; it had served as a shield to their right flank from the shilling winds. For just as the sun had at last surrendered to the inevitable night, Káno, who still led them fiercely on, had veered at a sudden right angle away from the sheltered canopy , making for a range of low rocky hills in the distance. As they had done so, Elrond had caught one last snatched glimpse of the sun as they ash grey clouds parted and the fiery, flaming sphere had seemed to dive into the now far away sea. It was as if a battle, a final desperate battle as being waged; the ocean glittered with a million sparkling diamonds littered with rubies of the richest red. The sky had been a spectacular display of orange and magenta and purple, lighting the clouds with a bright glow, and Elrond fancied, rather than truly saw that amid the whirl of colour specks of white and silver grey soared through the air, calling and screeching for him to come home; the gulls that he had known all his life, the friends of the mariners, who would lull him softly to sleep with their ethereal songs. All Middle-Earth had been cast into a radiant crimson shadow, so that the distant snow-caped peaks were tinted and stained with the souls of that fruitless fight, and the swaying grasses appeared to be on fire around them; yet it lasted only a moment. After a second or two, the sun was swallowed by the gaping, now unseen waters, its blinding, hope kindling fires all but extinguished. 

And hope had fluttered from his heart then. Within him he knew that he had been given nothing to truly fear – yet. But there was something about Káno, something he couldn't quite explain, something that made him quail at the very thought. He had thought a lot about what Nesial had told him during the ride, but had realised that there was no real reason to trust her either. If she was a captive of these men, why did she walk freely around the camp, and ride with her hands unbound?

No, he concluded; out here, there was nothing to say he could trust anyone.

And so night had descended swiftly upon the realms of Beleriand, bringing with its thick inky skirts a sharp and biting wind. It pierced his eyes like a thousand spears as it flew at them from the north-east, and numbed his already half senseless hands to the point that they felt more like lumps of metal on the stumps of his arms.

The wind had, however, done one thing to raise Elrond's spirits; it had deftly swept away all of the towering, pillar like clouds in the sky, leaving the stars to twinkling freely from their high and ancient resting places. It seemed to be much to the dislike to the troll like men around him, for they mumbled and mumbled and complained incoherently under their breaths, casting occasional scowls towards the sky. For Elrond though, it was the best thing that could have happened – well, obviously not the best thing. That would have been a successful escape; but then this tale would have come to an end before it had really begun. But the story is side-tracking… Yet the stars did kindle in him a new spark of hope, and he searched each of them out, all familiar shining faces, as he often did with his father on calm nights on the beach. They each and every one of them sang their own, enchanting melodies; yet together did all those melodies fit, and the harmony that floated down to the earth was as clear and bright and mystical as the stars themselves. 

On, on they had ridden across this waste land, where the plains went on for miles and miles on either side and the mountains loomed ahead of them as always. But as is often the way when heading for a mountain range, they never appeared any larger, or any closer… Not that Elrond had a particular desire to go their, towards their deadly and treacherous paths and glaciers, and sudden, thousand foot ravines that it was impossible to see until it was too late; but that was well. For This tale would not take him by that road.

Yet although the mountains drew no nearer, by about midnight the range of uneven hills they had aimed for were all among them, and before Elrond knew it they were riding through the bottom of a gentle sloping valley of two hills, which seemed to mark the entrance to the array. In the pale starlight (for the moon was new, and so hidden from them), Elrond saw the grasses, tall and silver, and bent as if in mid-sway in the same direction, but they were utterly unmoving. Completely and totally unnaturally still. Elrond shuddered involuntarily and with a jolt realised that there was no longer a wind but a pure, unbroken silence and stillness in the air. This place was full of magic, and not white magic either, it was practically screaming at him… A deeper, ancient sort of place, of spells and ghosts and forgotten myths and rituals. 

Looking up at the hilltops, Elrond noticed how the grasses, long and lush unlike those of the plains, covered all of the hills; but at the crown they stopped. At the brow of each hill was a wide circle of burnt and scorched ground, where nothing grew or moved. This unsettled Elrond enough; but what was more disturbing was the statues in them. Elrond could not be sure, for the light was faint and dim, and they still rode at a gallop, but the stones seemed to be hewn in the likeness of men, and perhaps of elves. But he could not be sure. 

Still they galloped on, weaving on a well worn path between the hills, heading always slightly west of north towards the heart of the hills. Elrond felt sure that should he ever escape his captivity, he would probably remain lost forever in this labyrinth. With an unpleasant jolt, he suddenly realised that it was more than likely that that was Káno's intention.  

It seemed obvious now that they were heading for the centre of the hills, and as they rounded one last small, silver-green mound, Elrond's theory was justified. Spread out before them, surrounded by five gently sloping hills was what appeared to be a large settlement of kinds. Row upon row of rough, badly built wooden thatched huts radiated out from a central space in the middle, and some even spread out onto the shallows of the hills. Crude lanterns hung above the doorways, so that across the valley were hundreds of flickering orange spots, showing the path of the huts. As Elrond drew nearer he saw the entire village was encased by a 10 foot high spiked fence, and guards armed with rudimentary but deadly spears were placed ever twenty yards or so around the perimeter.

At the head of the company, Káno held his hand up in the air, and as the riders passed through the gates they slowed to a jolty canter and then a short sharp trot, coming to an abrupt halt in the clearing. Here, a little to Elrond's left, a raging bonfire burned and cackled loudly, fed by a constant supply of logs. Before him was stood what he supposed could only be a sort of hall; it was built in the likeness of the huts, yet far, far larger, at least 10 times bigger, and torches hung from the walls every few paces around the circumference. 

All around him, the troll like men began gracelessly dismounting their horses, who were then being led away by some of the congregation that had formed around them. The men, Elrond noticed all resembled those he had ridden with; tall and stocky and thick boned with broad shoulders, and an idiotic looking face, topped with a mop of matted hair.

At his side, one such man was now stood with a curved, wicked looking knife in his hand. He grinned maliciously at Elrond, revealing a set of crooked and rotten blackened teeth, several of which were missing, and his beetle like eyes glinted in the firelight. 

"Enjoy yer ride, did ye, Elffie?" he mocked. Elrond did not reply, but levelled him with a cold, hard stare, his pale eyes like ice blue flames. The man's crooked seemed to falter a little and he growled, but with one swift movement cut clean through the ropes around Elrond's wrists. The young man could not hide the sharp his of pain that escaped his lips as the blood flow resumed once more to his fingers, rushing like fire. The man cackled triumphantly, and with a great shove his pushed his captive sideways out of the saddle to land stiffly on the floor. As his horse was taken away he rose to his knees, and felt two pairs of rough hands grab him on the shoulder and under the arm, and he was hauled to his feet.  

"Come one now, Elffie," leered the first man, "Káno says you must be taken inside."

Elrond struggled futilely against their grip, but they just laughed at him.

"I'd get yer strength back if I were ye – he'll be seein' ye before long," sneered the second. Again Elrond did not reply, but shot such venomous and loathing glances between them that for a moment they almost seemed to quail. 

"Watch it, Elffie," snarled the first, and punched Elrond hard across the face. Knocked back slightly by the force, Elrond slumped against the other man, who pushed him back again. Roaring, harsh laughter ensued as Elrond felt blood trickle down from his torn lip and cheek.

"Now, now men," said a silky, dangerous voice, "We wouldn't want to wear him out now, would we?"

Elrond knew that voice; he's known it only two days and already it sent chills down his spine. Lifting his gaze from the floor, he stood face to face with Káno. His white blonde hair almost shone with a radiance of its own, and his serpent like eyes glittered and now more than ever, Elrond could see how he was much more like to a Lord than these vagabonds. Yet not a good Lord, of fair lands and courteous people; an evil, merciless King of barren wastes, cracking the whip behind the thousands of toil worn, half-dead slaves.  

Káno surveyed Elrond for a moment, a slight frown upon his darkly handsome brow. He reached forward a leather gloved hand, and made to touch Elrond's face; but in a sudden bout of unreasonable and indubitable fear, Elrond pulled backwards sharply, away from the terror. Káno hesitated for a split-second, as the men gripped Elrond tighter, their vice like arms cutting into his arms and allowing him no freedom of movement, and then took Elrond's bleeding cheek in his hand. He half turned his prisoner's head, taking in the nasty purple swelling and bruise that was already forming on his usually flawless skin. Káno let a small smile come to his lips, and Elrond squirmed uselessly at his touch. 

"Feisty aren't we?" he observed almost lazily, "No matter; we can break that down soon enough… You," he turned suddenly to the men holding the captive more precious than he knew, "Take him inside and see he is…provided for. I have some business to attend to." With a last, curling sneer, Káno swept away in a swirl of black cloak and strode purposefully off out of Elrond's vision. For rather obvious reasons, none of the men dared to ask exactly what the business was… And if it concerned Káno, Elrond was entirely sure that he actually wanted to know. 

The young man let out the deep breath he wasn't even aware he had been holding, and the two thugs dragged him up towards the hall, throwing him over the threshold.

"You!" demanded the first man gruffly, speaking to someone Elrond couldn't see from the floor, "Káno says ye 'ave ter set him up fer later. Do it quick, I dunno how long he'll be." 

With that, they slammed the door heavily behind them, and a heavy bolt was locked.

For a second, Elrond remained sprawled where he was, his eyes tightly shut, wishing beyond all hope that it was all some terrible nightmare; but then he felt ashamed to be so afraid, and opened his eyes to find the same, bitter reality surrounding him.

The inside of the small hall was lit by a strong, orangey glow, due to four large roaring fireplaces positioned at four points around the one room like a compass, though two were hidden from view behind large hanging materials, that served as barriers to different areas of the room. The floor was covered completely in many animal skins, so that it was soft and warm, and by the side of the furthest fire the floor was littered with elaborately decorated cushions. Next to the cushions was a low set wooden bed, laden with pillows and blankets, and beside that was a small table, upon which was placed a silver goblet and a glass phial of livid green liquid. Down the walls were thrown more animal skins, mostly earthy brown bear, or silver grey wolf, and occasionally their was a thick and detailed tapestry, depicting a battle or a royal court of some kind.

As Elrond looked around in something close to wonder, he heard light-shoed feet come up beside him, though their sound was muffled slightly by the soft floor. He spun over onto his side in apprehension of who could be stood there, fearing a kick to the stomach; but it did not come. In fact, the one who stood before him was a mere boy, no more than 13 or 14. He wore a brown velvet long sleeved shirt and woollen black hose, and his mousy hair was half tied back. His skin was clean but tanned, as though he'd spent a long time in the sun, and he wore supple material shoes. Yet his hands were chained; thick bronze bolts around his wrists were connected together by means of a heavy linked bronze chain in a length wide enough for him to carry a tray and pour wine without difficulty, but restraining him from freedom.

But it was the lad's eyes that shocked Elrond the most; the amber orbs seemed dull and shallow, lifeless, and devoid of any thought or emotion. He looked down at Elrond as if he was not really seeing him, and when he spoke Elrond almost winced for the lack of feeling and the toneless sound of his voice. 

"My Master says you are to rest. Clothes are prepared for you. Food and drink is prepared for you. You must follow me." Even as he spoke, his face showed no sign of care or of anything come to that, and his eyes were like the dank, unblinking windows of an abandoned and haunted house. Empty of anything… Of a soul. Elrond suppressed a shudder, but climbed a little shakily to his knees. 

"Hello," he smiled weakly, "I'm Elrond. What is your name?"

The boy blinked at him but did not reply, and his face remained plain. Elrond frowned, but tried again.

"Do you speak the common tongue lad?" 

Again, the boy stared at him indifferently, and Elrond searched his eyes for a sign of… well, of anything. Yet there was nothing; it was like looking into them and seeing the back of his head – there was simply nothing there.

"You must come with me," the boy repeated and bending down, he took Elrond's arm in a surprisingly strong grip and pulled him to his feet. Elrond stared at him incredulously, but the boy made no sign that he acknowledged the gesture. He merely turned and walked lightly over the cushioned floor to one of the heavy separating hangings and drew it back, waiting for Elrond to step inside. 

Cautiously, and with much confusion at the boy's state, Elrond stepped over to him, and peered into the little partitioned area. Here there were two bed like strips of cushions, which weren't as nice as the ones outside, laid with blankets between which stood a stout wooden table bearing a platter of bread and cheese and a pitcher of water. On a crooked three-legged stool near the entrance were neatly folded fresh clothes.

"You must go inside," the lad repeated again and with a sharp push that caught Elrond off his guard he sent him tumbling inside. With a swish he closed the curtain, and Elrond was all alone. 

Luckily, the floor being so well padded, the fact that Elrond landed quiet heavily made absolutely no difference. He rolled over onto his back and proper himself up on his elbows, trying to take it all in. He couldn't help but to think it strange that Káno would treat a prisoner so well… perhaps because he was his precious elf prize? But that wouldn't make any difference – by all rights he was mortal, lest the Almighty deem it otherwise. And what were the chances of that? 

Elrond didn't know – and although he knew in the back of his mind that he shouldn't trust any of the niceties Káno offered him, his tired, aching body protested adamantly. The elven in him could live on stars and moon and air alone; but the frailer, mortal could not. Surely just changing clothes wouldn't hurt anyone? After all, the ones he was wearing now were stiff and dirty from the past two days, and if he was honest with himself they probably didn't smell all that great either. Finally, his stubborn body prevailed, and Elrond scuttled towards the clothes on the stool and laid them out on the floor. There was a long sleeved shirt of emerald green, with a wide neck and cuffs all trimmed with gold. There were trousers, not unlike those the boy had been wearing, save that they were velvet and not as loose fitting, also edged with gold. A pair of soft leather shoes was placed beneath the stool.

Elrond faltered for a minute. He knew something was wrong; anyone could tell that these garments were well made and probably not cheap; so why was Káno giving them to him? 

Maybe it was the overwhelming weariness that had finally caught up with Elrond; maybe it was the slightly sickly sweet smelling perfumes that he had just noticed floating around the air; he didn't know. All he knew was that he was unbuttoning his tunic and pulling his shirt over his head to be replaced with the emerald green one. Then he was unlacing his boots and before long he was wearing the entire outfit, his old clothes discarded by the curtain.

He had to admit it, even the suspicious part; he felt a hell of a lot better in these warm, soft clothes, and suddenly realised he was parched and famished. Turning eagerly towards the food, he eyed the relatively fresh bread with a new desire, and quickly grabbed a piece, biting a chunk off of it happily, almost choking on it a moment later when he remembered he throat felt like the desert. He hastily poured himself water form the pitcher and set the wooden goblet to his lips, letting the soothing liquid tumble down his throat thirstily. He had actually drained the entire cup when it dawned don him that the water was actually flavoured with something; a sweet, luscious tasting fruit he'd never experienced before, and greedily poured himself more. When this cup too had been emptied, he replaced it on the table, distantly wondering why there were two if there was only one of him, and sat back on the cushions. As he sank into them, he felt a light headedness come over him; a blissful, weary free feeling that freed his tense muscles and relaxed his mind. Maybe this situation wasn't so bad after all… 

… All at once, a bright, flaring warning erupted like a volcano in his mind. What was he thinking? What was happening to him? Horrified, he glanced at the drink pitcher, and drew back. He should have known… And the sickly sweet smell of burning herbs and spices was growing stronger now, clouding his senses and showering his fears in a thick, hazy fog. He struggled against the feeling, desperate to make himself remember who he really was, why he was here, who the faces of the people flashing across his mind were… But gradually, his internal struggles became less and less, as he succumbed to the power of the drugs. 

The curtains swung open to reveal a figure that to Elrond's blurry vision was shady and dark, like a shadow in the warmly lit room. He squinted at it, trying to perceive who it was; but as he did so, he found himself wondering where the point was in doing it anyway. Whoever it was seemed to be speaking to him…

"Hello? Elf-boy?" Nesial kneeled in front of Elrond, waving her hand sin front of his face. His eyes searched her, as if trying to truly see her, and she noted the dilated pupils and the half empty water pitcher. Comprehension dawned, and she sighed. It was a shame, she had almost grown to like him – and she'd almost hoped he'd be strong enough to throw it off… Almost. But what had to be done, had to be done.

With far more care and gentleness than she would have used ordinarily, she took Elrond's hands in her own and placed them on her own lap.

"Elrond?" she called softly, as though he were a small child in a nightmare. "Come on, Elf-boy, wake up… Come this way, Elrond…"

Gradually, the sense of confusion and helplessness in the half-elf's face seemed to fade, and as his eyes were clearing, Elrond could see Nesial properly. She was gazing at him almost in sadness, and there was a kind, motherly smile on her lips. 

"Welcome back, Boyo," she said in hushed tones, a laid a hand on his forehead.

Elrond gazed at her for a minute, thinking that he knew her face…

"Nesial?" he croaked, "Wha-… What's happening?" 

Nesial stroked his head, and placed a finger upon his lips. 

"Shh," she soothed, gently but firmly pushing him back down onto the bed of pillows. "Rest now. You must rest… You will need you're strength."

"Wha-… What for?" Elrond protested feebly, but remained lying down, his eyelids fluttering.

"You will know," Nesial whispered, laying a hand over his eyes, closing them. Within seconds, Elrond's chest was rising and falling steadily as he lost himself in a deep, dreamless slumber. Nesial sighed, sitting back on her ankles. Yes… He would know.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It seemed to Elrond that when he woke only an hour or two later, that he'd been asleep for almost eternity. His head was still spinning a little, but it was nowhere as near as bad as it had been before. All he knew was that he felt warm and completely rested, and could sense someone to his right. He stirred a little, but was reluctant to open his eyes. The dark place he was in felt safe and secure, and he didn't know what lay past its blackened barriers.

"You awake Elf-boy?" a familiar voice asked chattily. Elrond frowned, but still didn't rise.

"Come on you lazy slob, let's be up with you," Nesial shoved him.

Mumbling and grumbling, Elrond opened his eyes blearily and propped himself up on one elbow.

"How long have I been asleep?" he asked, stifling a yawn.

"Couple of hours, give or take," dismissed Nesial carelessly, as she took another bite out of a bread chunk.

Elrond stared at her for a moment, as his eyes cleared of sleepy mist. She paused mid-chew to stare back.

"What?"

"You've changed." stated Elrond randomly.

"Oh – well, you've you," replied Nesial, returning to her food.

It was true, she had; the old, travel worn cloak was gone, replaced by an almost fitted, emerald velvet dress with a wide collar and low neck line, trimmed with gold. The sleeves were long and although slightly flared they were not like the elaborate dresses Elrond had seen his mother wear; they ended in a diamond point, so that a small loop of material was hoped over Nesial's middle finger like a ring to keep it on place. Her copper locks hung freely about her face, though slender braids ran through her curly hair.

Elrond glanced at himself a little self-consciously. 

"Yes…well," he fiddled uncomfortably with his fingers.

"Oh don't be such a goose," she teased lightly, taking a draught from her goblet, "Besides; he wouldn't have seen you in those old clothes." Her eyes flickered with disdain to the pile.

"'He'?" questioned Elrond. "Do you mean Káno?" 

Nesial nodded, but did not reply.

"He told me he wanted to speak to me tonight," he told her, dread filling his stomach like lead," Though I suppose it won't be night for much longer… But he said he had some other business to finish first –"

"- Yes well, he's a busy man you know, you can't deny that," Nesial interrupted purposefully, deliberately not meeting Elrond's eye. Right now, he was too preoccupied to care.

"What does want with me?" he asked quietly, swinging his legs around so he faced her, "Nesial?"

"I don't know; why would he tell me?" muttered Nesial distractedly. 

Elrond frowned again, but didn't pester her. Stubborn, evasive, secretive woman…

For the second time that evening, the curtain swung open and Elrond recognised the lad he's met earlier standing on the threshold.

"My Master will see you now," he said tonelessly, staring at Elrond with unseeing eyes.

"What if I don't want to see him?" 

The boy blinked.

"You must come," he said just blandly. It was as if he couldn't comprehend Elrond's answer.

"Best not to make a scene, Elf-boy," advised Nesial wisely, concreting hard on picking another piece of bread. 

Grudgingly, Elrond rose to his feet, a slight fear now apparent in his previously numbed mind. Yet considering it was Káno he was being taken to see, he couldn't help but to wonder why he wasn't half as terrified as he had been earlier. With a last glance at Nesial, he stepped beneath the curtain's hanging and was shut off from the sheltered space behind him.

In the more open space of the hall, the orange glow was much brighter, though still subtle, and the air was far warmer, filed with the strong smell of unfamiliar spices and herbs. The smell hit him full in the face, almost making him fall back, and he had to blink a few times to stop it stinging his eyes. After a few moments he could follow the boy again, but he could feel the same sense of utter blissfulness weaving enticingly around his mind, and he gulped, wanting to dread what it could mean but finding he couldn't.

The boy was leading him to the bed he had seen earlier when he'd first entered the low roofed hall. A cloaked figure with white blonde hair was sat on it, turned to watch the fireplace, a goblet of blood red wine in hand. The phial of toxic green liquid was still on the table. The lad come up beside the men and bowed, keeping his eyes on the floor.

"That will be all, Adreg," said the icy cold voice.

Once again the boy bowed and backed off into another separated space, leaving Elrond and Káno alone. 

For a few seconds, Káno did not stir or speak; indeed, Elrond began to wistfully wonder if he knew he was stood there at all.

"How are you feeling?" he enquired suddenly.

Elrond did not start; the herbs had long ago sent his senses past the point of usefulness, but he did not answer either.

Káno swivelled on the bed to face Elrond directly, twirling the silver goblet in his fingers. Beneath the black cloak, Elrond saw that he too wore a shirt of emerald green, and wanted to wonder about it, though it was clearly made of expensive and fine silk, woven with gold strands that caught the light and glistened. 

"Answer me," he demanded.

"Tired," said Elrond simply, trying to avoid Káno's eyes. 

"I told you to rest," sneered Káno, a malicious glint in his bright green eyes. "Come here," he ordered.

Impulsively it seemed, Elrond moved forwards until he stood straight in front of Káno, where he knelt down on the floor. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice half protested, but it was easily overridden.

The aroma of the herbs grew stronger.

"Good, good," laughed Káno quietly to himself, placing his goblet on the table and putting the other hand on Elrond's chin, tilting it up slightly to get a clear view of his eyes. Inwardly, a part of Elrond wanted to flinch away fro him; but his body could not, or would not obey, and he remained perfectly still.

"You will feel a little light-headed, no doubt?" asked Káno, pulling his hand away to lean back and look at Elrond as a whole. He surveyed him rather like a meat sales man at a market, picking up on the best and useful features of an animal. 

"Yes," replied Elrond, just as simply as he had done before.

"That will be the Kerathanol," grinned Káno, "A wonderful substance; as innocent and sweet as water; yet more deadly than Orc poison when over dosed – and there's no know cure… But do not trouble yourself," he laughed out suddenly, "You have had a dilute solution – just enough to make you manageable, I deem." 

Something somewhere inside Elrond clicked – the water… Again, the small persistent part of his mind struggled to pull him back to his senses; but it was not use; it couldn't prevail. 

"Oh its pointless fighting it," Káno told him delightedly, as though reading his mind, "As I said before, there's no known antidote and the effects last for hours. Oh yes, a wonderful substance…" Once more, his face lit up with a wicked grin as he pulled a large, crystalline glass from somewhere in the folds of the blanket. 

"The thing about it is," he continued, pulling the stopped from the phial of livid green liquid, "Is that to completely subdue a mind, the amount administered to do so would kill them; which it where this comes in." He poured the substance, which seemed to glow slightly with a light of its own into the glass. It was thin and fast flowing, so that it hit the crystal and filled the cup with a supposedly sweet tinkling sound.

Káno held the glass up to the subtle orange light. 

"This," he smiled triumphantly, a gleam of pure malice in his eyes, "This is a creation of my own; Darquaril. Tried and tested to perfection," he added with malevolence, and glanced in the direction that the boy servant had disappeared.

And at once Elrond understood.

"Now my pretty," breath Káno in dangerously low tones, and turning his attention back to Elrond he lifted the glass to the young man's lips. He laid his other hand on the back of Elrond's head, entwining his fingers in the long auburn hair, and smoothly tugging his head back a little.

"Drink up," he chuckled insanely and to his own horror, Elrond opened his mouth and began drinking the evil concoction. As soon as it hit his tongue he almost choked; the taste was foul and bitter, and it made the tender lignin of his mouth come on fire. Still, Káno pulled back his head further and further, tipping the cup up, pouring down the potion. He tried to cough and splutter, he tried to move his head or knock the glass; he tried everything to stop the man – but he could not do it…

"That's it, that's it," leered Káno, tipping the cup still further.

In a matter of seconds, the entire thing was drained, and Káno released his grip on Elrond's hair as he left the cup on the side. Elrond slumped forward, coughing and catching his breath, attempting to steady his breath. So far, although the potion had scorched his throat, Elrond couldn't feel any side effects; but he dreaded what would come.

And it did.

A sudden flash of light lurched across Elrond's mind, blinding him with a searing, unbearable pain, through every single fibre of his body. Caught off guard, he fell to the floor and writhed in pain, crying and screaming in agony, though he knew not what he said. It seemed as though the pain went on for eternity, as though white hot ten inch pokers were thrust deep into every bit of skin; Elrond felt sure that death was the only thing that would had released him from this endless torment, and gladly he would have greeted it.

Just when he knew he could take no more, with another jolt, the pain suddenly and unexpectedly abated; leaving Elrond gasping for breath on the floor, his chest rattling as he drew oxygen into his starved lungs. His face was wet and hot from tears – tears he hadn't even known he was crying.

He remained still on the floor, screwed into the smallest possible shape, blocking out everything... It only brought pain. He felt a presence kneel down beside him and strong, firm hands pulled him back up on his knees. Bloodshot eyes focused on Káno as he sobbed, his shoulders shaking violently, while he grasped Elrond's face with both hands and forced him to look the white haired man directly in the eye.

"I am Káno," he drilled in a deep, icy voice, as though trying to brand him with icy words, "I am your Master now. I am your commander. You shall obey every word, whim and thought of mine, and no others. You have no meaning in life; no existence worth anything; no life other than that which I give you; no purpose other than to serve me. You are worthless. But you are mine. I own you. You will never escape. If you disobey me, I will punish you in ways more terrible than words so that you will beg for death. You will refer to me as your Lord, your Master… I am your Master and Commander now."

As Elrond was forced to gaze into those deep, emerald eyes, it seemed to him that they began spinning… Spinning, growing larger all the time – whirls of green and gold – flashing and enveloping him – the light! The light, piercing, tearing, shredding, it was all around him!

"Who am I?" a strong, powerful voice demanded. It installed fear into every inch of Elrond's being and he quailed at it.

"My Lord, my Mater, my Commander," he whimpered quietly but quickly.

"Who am I?!" repeated the voice, deep and booming. 

"My – my – My Lord! My Master! My Commander!" Elrond cried out, raising his voice as loud as he could, declaring to the world his binding oath. A harsh cackling filled everything in him, but he could not shudder, and the green light faded into the subtle, innocent orange once more.

Elrond was slumped against the force of Káno's hands, the only thing keeping him upright and off the floor. 

"That's better," he whispered venomously, but allowed Elrond to fall forwards onto his chest, stroking his hair. Elrond was too weak, too spent to care – and all that mattered any more was that he pleased his Master. And he found he didn't want to care – not anymore.

"That's much better…"

Breathing in the scent of Káno's clothes, Elrond felt unconsciousness speeding up to great him, a great black oblivion rushing to take his waking mind.

"My Lord…" he mumbled. Yet even as he did so, his strength was finally gone, and the great darkness took him, and he knew no more. 

~

**Waazzooooo****! So Káno has made some intentions clearer – and I hope that a good few more mysteries have been created here too! But what of Elrond? And Elros – ahh, but that would be telling…**

**_Elrond_****: For the love of Eru, SOMEONE JUST SHOOT HER!!!!**

**Aww****… You love me really Star-dome…**

**Please, please, please, please, please, please…. ok, you get the picture – please review!!!!!**

**Loadsa love, Estel**


	5. By My Honour

**Disclaimer:**** Alackaday! I'm not making anything from this, save the feeling of satisfaction from getting reviews from my lovely reviewers… If they review…**

**A/N :**** Well, I am proud to announce that I didn't get a single review for chapter four! BEAT THAT !!! Lol, as you can see, I'm completely undeterred because I'm enjoying this story quiet a lot. Maybe I'll put it in the Simarillion category this time… Yeah, me thinks so! **

**Actually, I will say hello! to Tasha and Sareh, who do make the effort, for which I'm very grateful me dears!!!**

**~**

****

**Chapter Five – By My Honour**

****

Nesial surveyed the steady bustle around the camp with distinct disdain etched into her features. A yellow haze seemed to cover the course settlement and the air was too still; thick and heavy to breath. Over head, dull pre-storm clouds gathered and loomed ominously like waiting giants, drawing together their full strength. The troll-like men lumbered about their tasks, mumbling and grumbling to one another, but their voices were barely heard. And eerie silence hung threateningly in the air – the deep breath before the plunge…

Yet to Nesial's ears, all was not silent. And to Nesial's eyes, the yellowish light caused no blurriness. 

The scream from the half-elf still rang clear in her ears, pounding mercilessly, driving her to a guilt she knew she should not be feeling. His contorted, writhing figure on the hall floor haunted everything she saw, as though the ghosts of the previous night followed her every foot step.

For she realised now why Káno never usually let her near the area where the 'cleansing' took place. The only reason she had been last night was to keep Elf–boy among the living – now she wasn't so sure that death wouldn't have been better. 

Taking a deep breath, she leant her full weight against the hall doorway; her legs crossed to balance, and she passed a hand over her inky black eyes. What was she thinking? Was she, Nesial Kelathra, daughter of a Queen among Sorceresses losing her nerve? Had she actually grown to like the mongrel?

"What are you thinking?" a silky, low voice just behind her asked, "What do you see?"

Nesial slowly let out the deep breath and forced her face to become neutral as she moved her hand away. 

"The hour grows late," she answered cryptically, staring with unseeing eyes across the hill range. "They will not be denied when the time comes."

Káno stepped up beside her. Glinting dark silver mail tinkled slightly under the knee length velvet sleeveless robe. Like the others of his Order, the cloth was a rich green, and upon his breast was embossed the golden serpent, poised and ready to strike, the emblem of his leadership. And emerald encrusted sword rested by his hip, and his white blonde hair was pulled back into a simple braid. 

"We will be ready – he is the one they need," Káno replied with a definite tone, and he seemed to follow Nesial's blank gaze across the horizon. "Yet that is not what I meant; and you well know it, witch."

Nesial stiffened almost unperceivably and glanced side long at him.

"I am no witch," she muttered.

"So it would seem." A sarcastic sneer tugged at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes glittered.

"You would do well to remember you cannot do this without me," spat Nesial, and immediately knew she had been too bold. Káno's eyes flashed dangerously, and he spun to face her so that they were mere inches apart.

"And you would do even better to remember your place and purpose," he growled.

Nesial dropped his gaze and nodded submissively, shrinking back a little.

"Better," he smirked.

There was silence for a few moments as they both returned to watching the hills. Then – 

"Do not grow attached to him, Carandol." 

Nesial started, for one thing, she hated the elven alias he had given her – 'red-head' indeed. Secondly, and more worryingly, she thought she had hidden her mind from him far better than that. Was she really that easy to read? This could become dangerous…

"What gave you such a notion?" she asked in an off hand manner.

Káno made a 'tsk tsk' sound and shook his head. 

"You give yourself away far too easily, my dear," he drawled. "But I don't want you to go getting impossible idea's into that pretty red head of yours. He is the price you pay, like all the others – do not forget that."

Nesial snorted.

"Why would I harbour any feelings fro a half-breed? He does not even belong to a race! The world will be better off with one less no one, and I think I place my own interests well above his." she claimed defiantly. 

Káno began laughing, much to her confusion.

"As you say, my dear – if nothing else, it is good at least to know you value your own pathetic life above his." He paused, when a thought struck him. "But of course, a simple test cannot hurt can it?"

Nesial raised her eyebrows in a questioning response as Káno clicked his fingers. 

"You haven't met our new and improved – what did you call him? – _half-breed yet, have you?" he grinned manically. _

The Sorceress frowned, half-confused, until a young man of no more than twenty came to stand silently by his commander. Long, dark hair was braided back from his contrasting deathly pale face and thick chains of dull gold bound his hands, with a long connection to a golden clamp around his neck like a collar. A rich, forest green shirt decorated with gold hung off his lean frame, as he stared incessantly at the ground. Except, Nesial noticed, his face was blank, expressionless, devoid of emotion. She reached forward a forced steady hand and tilted his chin with the tips of her fingers. The bright, sea-grey eyes that had once been so full of life and defiance and endless hope had been emptied. Completely. She looked at him, but he did not see her; the glassy, dark ashen orbs were lightless, as though nothing had ever existed there. 

At once, she wanted to rush forwards and embrace him tightly in her arms. She wanted to feel a flood of empathy for this lost, empty vessel. She wanted to give him back what they had taken, and beg him for his forgiveness. 

And for wanting to do that, she wanted to shoot herself. This wasn't how it was supposed to bloody be – she should never have met him before!

"He has had no other side effects?" She carefully made sure that no trace of the tumult of emotions inside her was in her voice. She had kept her tone lain, brisk, businesslike, and prayed that he wouldn't see past the charade. 

She could feel his piercing deep eyes searching her, trying to detect any sign of weakness or giving. She stood steadfast however, and allowed him no ground. Finally, her turned his gaze away and answered her question.

Side effects? None whatsoever," Káno replied almost delightedly, looking over Elrond as though he were a newly discovered advanced species of animal. 

"Then we need only wait," stated, leaving go of Elrond's chin. His eyes immediately sought the floor again. With another snap of his fingers, Káno sent him back inside. 

"So it would seem. Yet if something were to…_backfire_… rest assured, he is not the only price you will have to pay."

Nesial jerked her head around, eyeing him fearfully.

"What of the Laws?" she hissed, "And what of our bargain?"

Káno shrugged carelessly. "Rules are made to be broken – and if I haven't got the half-breed, we haven't got a bargain, have we?" he added, sneering.

Nesial did not reply.

"Of course – a week is a long time to wait, my dear…" Káno's voice had dropped to a low purr, and Nesial became suddenly aware that his left hand was creeping up her side, over her chest to her slender, milky skinned neck. She drew a sharp intake of breath. Her heart started to beat erratically. She had been dreading this moment since that first night in the inn. Yet she did not move.

"You know full well there is no point is resisting," he whispered, stepping so close their bodies touched. His other hand had found its way around her back, and was fiddling with the ribbon – lacing tantalisingly. His breath warmed her skin as her began kissing her neck in an ungentle way.

Everything inside her wanted to scream – scream and run until she died; but she was a magician, an illusionist by trade (though she almost shuddered at what her mother would say if she knew she had thought that). But she knew how to fool him, and if she wanted to survive she must. She forced her body to relax in his hold, and brought her own hand up, dancing her fingers along his toned forearms. 

"That's better, my dear," he snickered in her ear as he finally succeeded in undoing the knot in the lacing. Nesial felt him pushing his body up against hers, towards the wall behind, and she gracefully side-stepped into the darkness of the hall.

As he pulled the ribbons away and slid the dress down her shoulders, one thought only came into her mind: How ironic, that all the golden chains in the world were still chains. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Elros shuffled aimlessly along the silver-sanded beach. Several flat and smooth pebbles rested in his left hand, and occasionally he would skim them across the dancing and foaming waves. He could see the lights of his home in the distance, flickering gold and orange and blue. Yet since Elro – since that day… He wasn't even sure it was his home any more. He had never felt so hopeless and alone and useless in all his life. It was like half of him, half of his being, of his very soul was missing. But by bit, it was draining him of everything that he was, and as his strength failed, so did his faith. 

It had been four days since the horsemen had erupted from the woods. At first, he had been almost certain that they could follow and catch up with the rogues with ease, and half-believed that they would have Elrond back home before nightfall. But the time had dragged on, and soon he was only optimistic for his mother's sake. She too at first had held out well, and even Elros could not detect the slightest trace of weakness about her unfaltering perseverance. To the rest of the small town, he supposed she still seemed like that; but he was her son, and he knew better. It was beginning to tear her apart inside, and he hated to see it, just as much as he hated himself for causing it. Yes, he thought grimly; it was him. If he hadn't been so damn slow, if he had made the effort to do something about it, if he hadn't failed his brother… Well, the answer was obvious. They wouldn't be in this crisis now. Without meaning to, or even realising he was doing so, Elros began to suddenly desperately wish that above all else his father would just come home. He hadn't been away long, and of course he was used to him being at sea – but now was the time he needed him more than any other. But there was no use in wishing, he knew only too well. It didn't get you anywhere. 

For, in the four days since the horsemen had once more disappeared, with Elrond unconscious among them, his mother had sent search parties out all along the coast to Círdan and far inland; yet neither hide nor hair had been seen of his twin. 

Elros stopped on the shore, snorting at the frustration of it all and kicked the glittering sand into the air with a fierce thrust from his boot. They had followed the tracks of the horses on the soft turf, that had been easy enough. But as soon as they'd got within a few yards of the forest, they had just stopped – completely ended. It was as if the entire horde of them had vanished into thin air, and even their best trackers were at a loss. 

"AARRRGGHHH!!!" Elros screamed for all he was worth and more, unleashing every single pent up emotion inside his body and channelling it into this one sound, as though if it were loud enough it would bring him back. He threw the remaining stones with all his might out into the sea. They landed with large splashes and sinking 'plops' a few dozen feet away. 

Why did this have to happen?! Damn it, if these Valar were as brilliant and as all-powerful as they claimed to be, why didn't they answer his prayer now? Why couldn't they do the one thing he asked of them, and stop being so selfish? Why couldn't they just bring his little brother back to him?

He barely felt his legs give way beneath him, and his knees buckled into the soft crystalline sand, his whole body racked with shuddering sobs. He covered his ace with his hands to hide out the world, but it did not stop the stinging tears from streaming from his eyes and flooding his cheeks. All he could hear was his own ragged, hitched breathing; not the spray of the sea nor the quietly wailing gulls – nor the stealthy footfalls behind him. It fact, it was not until a shadowy figure, who if Elros has looked at would see to be wearing s silver grey cloak and soft leather boots had come right up beside him and sat down that he realised someone other than himself was there.

"W – what do you want?" he croaked coarsely, "Just go away a – and leave me alone!"

"I only came because you called for me," replied the figure in a balmy, mildly hurt voice. A familiar voice…

Elros looked up, hardly daring to believe it.

"Father?" he whispered, still not trusting his tear-blurred eyes. 

"My son…" said Eärendil smiling sadly, "yes, it is I."

"Father!" Throwing away all pretence that he was a full grown man, Elros threw himself into his father's arms and wept anew into his shoulder. 

"Ai Elbereth…" breath Eärendil, "Oh Elros, I am so, so sorry." In the misty starlight, his bright eyes compassionate eyes shone like the sea's crystal foam and his raven hair billowed slightly in the salty breeze. 

"Father – you came, you came," sobbed Elros. He felt his father's strong arms pull around him drawing him closer. Elros could not have cared less who saw him now, it did not matter; all that mattered was that he was safe at last, in his father's arms once more.

"Of course I came," Eärendil whispered softly, "I am your father Elros; I hear all of your prayers, and I am always there for you, no matter where you are." 

"Then you are the only one who heard," Elros murmured darkly.

"My son, do not think so rashly, even in your doubt and grief. For they answered you, did they not? Lord Manwë sent swift winds to fill my sails, and Ulmo flowing tides to the shore, and Lady Varda the bright light of the stars to guide me. They heard you, little one," he said gently, lightly kissing the top of Elros' head, who was too over come with emotion to even feel indignant at the use of his childhood name. 

"But father – I lost him – it was all my fault – please – forgive me –" choked Elros brokenly, trying to bury himself into his father, and it pained Eärendil do see his son suffer so. 

"Shh, Elros, shh… My son, there is nothing for me to forgive," Eärendil comforted him gently, stroking his auburn hair. "This was not your fault in any way. Do you understand Elros? You are not to blame for this."

Elros pulled back a little, so that he could look up at his father. His face shone with tears, and eyes over brimmed with sorrow. "But I didn't do anything," rasped ashamed, "I didn't even know he had tripped – I just kept running – and when I turned around they – they – had him. And I ran. I ran because I was afraid; because I am a coward."

"No!" Eärendil started strongly, taking his elder son's shoulders, "No Elros, you are anything but a coward, do not scorn yourself so. You came to get help as soon as you could, the only thing you cold have done."

"I could have tried to help him," sniffed Elros sullenly. 

Eärendil sighed despondently. "No Elros. If you had tried to aid Elrond, they would only have taken you as well, you were out numbered. And I couldn't live with myself if I lost you both," he added, pulling Elros to him again. Elros snuggled into his father's shoulder, burying his face in the soft, warm robes beneath the cloak, hearing the steady, rhythmatic heartbeat in his father's chest. His did not see Eärendil blink and force away tears in his own sparkling eyes. 

For a long time, Elros remained tight within his father's grasp. The continuous lull of the waves washing up the shore calmed him, and gradually his face dried and his chest rose and fell deeply and steadily as sleep took him. Eärendil noticed his son's quietness, and looked down at him. He seemed so peaceful… He mariner was not to know, but this was the first time Elros had slept soundly since Elrond had been kidnapped. The elder man felt a sharp pang in his heart as he thought of his younger son. How was he ever going to find him? Where was he know – was he even alive? These were dangerous times… And with Elwing bearing the Simaril – well, nothing was sure anymore. Perhaps he should never have left them alone. Perhaps this was his fault – for too long he had been lucky, and they had stayed safe; but perhaps his luck had run out. 

Sighing, he turned to look at the sea. It was a clear, cloudless night, and just as he had told Elros, Varda's jewels twinkled with a pure and innocent beauty, untainted by the wars of elves and men, upon the dancing waters, shimmering and dancing in reflections.

The stars… Ever had they been friends to the ship wrights and sailors, guiding them home, leading them in waters strange, singing to them softly in the dead of night. Automatically it seemed, Eärendil's eyes sought out a bright flaring star to the North West. He smiled, as he thought of the seaman's legend of the path to Valinor…

_"Bright in the sky,_

_By starry ways,_

_Second star to the right,_

_'Til the dawn of day."___

Second star to the right… He had always wondered where that path led, and if it truly went to the Blessed Realm. Maybe one day he would find it – but right now, that was the least of his concerns. Right now, he knew what he had to do – he knew he had to find Elrond. 

Looking out upon the stars again, he laid one hand on his heart, and swore and oath silently to himself; by all that he held dear, he would find his son and bring him home. There was no other alternative. 

He stared lovingly back down at the sleeping boy in his arms.

"By my honour," he whispered, and gathering Elros up in his arms, he walked quietly along the sand towards his home. 

**~**

**Well, what did you think? Its shorter than the last one ( which I do apologise for, I just got carried away with that!) but I needed it to set the scene for the next chapter… So, was it any good?**

**PLEASE REVIEW!!!**

**Loadsa love, Estel **


	6. Enchanted Sleep

**Disclaimer:**** Oh alackaday! My evil plans to claim all that is Tolkien's as my own is yet again foiled… Stupid lawyers…**

**A/N:**** Hellhoha people!!! Okay, this might have taken a little longer than it should have to come out in the end; but what can I say, I hopelessly lazy! ^_~ And you people have really inspired me!!! I'm loving writing this story, its great fun, so suddenly reviews don't seem to matter that much any more… Thank you very much! Anyways – onto the reviewers that do visit… And trust me, you are muchos loved!!!! ^_^**

**Reviewers**

****

**Katie: ****Thank you!!! beams I know, I love the Elrond stuff, he's grown to be one of my fave characters. Especially after Return of the King – you know when the camera showed him all happy and smiley when Aragorn and Arwen finally got together? Oh, too much!! breaks down**

**Sareh:**** Wow, thrilled you liked it ^_~ I did send you the entire thing actually, I duno if you got it though… Ah well, a girl can try. Omg, you can read my characters minds?! Sounds a little fishy to me…**

***_Eärendil slaps Estel with a wet kipper_*: STOP TORTURING MY SONS!!!**

**So that's the smell… ^_~**

**sf****: Now to you I owe the most thanks. Lol, I know, people tell me that time and time again – it stays a while, then wears off, you know? But you actually got through to me for once, something of a near miracle!!! And I know what you mean, the Simarillion isn't so popular – maybe they should make a major nine hour motion picture epic out of it an see what happens… You never know… ^_~  love Elrond stories myself, and when I discovered there weren't so many around, I thought I should help to remedy that! And I actually started this story with every intention of doing a sequel – but I'm getting ahead of myself! We shall see, me thinks. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!!!**

**And now, enough of my rambles and cheese pies! On with the show!!!**

**~**

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**Chapter Six – Enchanted Sleep**

Nesial was roused from a dreary sleep later that evening by the sounds of angry shouting and the muffled noise of thrown objects hitting the thrown floor. She groaned and rolled onto her side, willing the voice to stop so that she could carry one sleeping – not that she was particularly tired, but it was better than being awake in this place. At least she didn't have her conscience to contend with…

Yet, as the vicious yells grew louder, she was forced into waking, and cleared her mind. Her stomach gave a funny jolt when she recognised Káno's voice.

"…PATHETIC LITTLE WORM! YOU DON'T DESERVE THE AIR YOU BREATH, YOU ARE NOTHING, NOTHING BUT A WASTE OF SPACE! I AM YOUR COMMANDER, NONE MAY OVERIDE MY RULE, DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!"

Nesial winced as she heard the crack of a whip and the clear hard thump of a slap, and a heavy thud as someone hit the floor. She didn't have to guess as to who the person was.

"DON'T YOU DARE EVER, _EVER _DISOBEY MY ORDERS AGAIN, OR YOU WILL NOT BE GIVEN THE CHANCE TO REGRET IT!!!" 

With a hefty kick and a snort of contempt, Nesial heard Káno thunder out of the hall in a storm of rage, his ire radiating out from him. She smirked to hear the half-grunt and a dull thud from one of the troll like men as Káno tossed him aside – well, the Commander was good for something at least…

Nesial remained still on her pillow bed, listening intently to any noises behind her curtain barrier. Straining her ears, she could hear the very faintest of sounds; a short, sharp breathing, almost inaudible unless one were looking for it.

Climbing carefully to her feet, Nesial checked her dress and pulled back the hanging. The hall was all but empty save for one figure, half-crouched, half-slumped figure against the far wall. It was topless and shuddering uncontrollably, its ragged gasps piercing the otherwise still air. Knotty, bedraggled hair clung down around its face and streamed down its back, covering most of it. Yet Nesial could still see the ugly red welts rearing their crimson heads, oozing fresh trickles of blood, and she was at once moved to pity. Taking light steps, she crossed the hall towards him, noting the discarded golden chains by his side. That was a small comfort, at least.

"Elrond?" she asked softly, as she crouched down in front of him, "Elrond, can you hear me?"

The young man did not reply or respond in any way. Nesial reached out a gentle hand to his trembling arm.

"Listen to me," she barely whispered, but her voice seemed to carry just as much power as Káno's, "Hear me now, listen to my voice Elrond…"

Very, very slightly, the young man's trembling abated, but only a little.

"Take strength, dear heart," she comforted him, squeezing his arm.

Shakily pulling up his head, the new slave looked at her, confusion and pain etched into his young, mortal features. His pupils were behaving erratically, and Nesial knew only too well it was not the dim light that caused it. Vile purple bruises already coloured and marred his pale skin, and blood trickled down from a torn lip. 

Settling herself on front of him on the floor, Nesial finally began to confront the internal struggle she had tried so hard to subdue. Taking both of his hands in hers, she held them in his lap.

"Elrond," she breathed, holding his gaze, "Star-dome, you must be strong now, you must. You cannot fail him, for the Commander does not make idle threats."

At the mention of his Master, Elrond once again began quivering desperately, and uttered soft whimpers of fear.

The sight made Nesial feel as though someone had thrust and twisted a poised blade into her heart, and it was then that something snapped. She had been lying to herself for too long, enough was enough – this was not the way of her people, it never had been, no matter what Káno told her to believe! Surely, if what he said was true, then the sacred bond and agreement between the two races was nothing but a deal for slavery? Surely, that would make her no better than the next thief or vagabond? Others perhaps like Káno, couldn't stand this; but not her. Nesial was not, and never had been a bad person, just misled – and it took Elrond's broken and shattered spirit to show her that.

Closing her eyes, she pushed down tears that threatened to over brim the inky black orbs.

"I am so, so sorry, Elrond," she whispered hopelessly, kissing his bleeding hands lightly, "Please, please forgive me…"

Opening her eyes, she found Elrond staring at her in just the same way. What difference did it make what she decided now anyway? Káno would go ahead with the sacrifice, whether she was a part of it willingly or not. Despair rose from the depths of her soul as she realised that on her own, one woman on her own, Sorceress though she was could never hope to achieve victory over an entire encampment of men – nothing but a traitor's death.

Then a thought struck her, and her head snapped up, her eyes drying and yet clouding over as the threads of a plan began weaving together. On her own, no – but with aid… She glanced at Elrond, who big pale silver eyes were watching her with apprehension (he had started when she moved so suddenly). They were alive though – filled with emotion, bland though it was. She half-smiled; apparently the effects of Darquaril were not permanent on even half elves as they were on mortals. They would give him more soon, to repress what little spirit may begin to shine through, so there wasn't much time; then again, she didn't need much. If she could get the ingredients… She remembered the spell well enough; it was a rather basic charm. Just a name would do, any name. Then the contact would be simple – she was, after all, not a Sorceress for nothing. 

Taking Elrond's face in both of her hands, she ignored him when he flinched away from her, holding him firmly to look into his eyes. 

"Hear my voice, Half Elven," she commanded, compelling Elrond to listen to her, "I need your aid; I can save you, I can get you away from this place – all I need is a name. Do you understand? I can free you if you give me a name." she spoke each word slowly and deliberately. 

Elrond stuttered and stammered for a minute before she tried again.

"Come on, Elrond," she muttered, willing him to speak," Just think… One name of someone you hold dear is all I need."

Elrond strained with all his might to pull a name from the very dregs of his mind, where the last of his hope had died. Even had he wanted to feel suspicious about Nesial's motivation, he did not have the strength of will anymore – he could not help but to obey any direct command he was given.

"E… El…" he attempted, but somehow the words wouldn't form.

"Come on elf-boy," murmured Nesial, staring at him unblinkingly.

"El – El –"

"Come on!"

"I –"

"Elrond, please!"

"Elros!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

**_But in dreams_**

**_I can hear your name_**

**_And in dreams_**

**_We will meet again_**

**--- FotR Soundtrack**

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eärendil quietly shouldered the door to his home open. The torches were burning low in the sconces on the walls, and in the hall the embers in the grate glowed red, but no flames licked the brickwork. Elros shifted a little in his arms, murmuring something incoherent in his dreams, but other than that, the house was completely silent. The mariner smiled down at his eldest as he ascended the staircase to the bed chambers on the first floor. 

Gently, and with all the stealth he possessed, he laid Elros down on the soft feather bed. The young man frowned in his sleep but did not wake as Eärendil skilfully pulled off his boots, and drew the covers up to his son's chin. For a moment, his hand lingered by Elros' cheek, a fatherly smile flitting behind his sea grey eyes. A soft salty gust of wind made him glance up through the open window over the glittering, calmly swaying ocean. The moon still glinted off the rippling, fathomless surface, forever in a timeless dance of silver and sapphire and indigo. Crossing the room, Eärendil paused for another moment, watching the stars keeping the moon company, and his heart was pained as he remembered his son. Out all alone, in a dark, unfriendly world where evil lurked behind every corner, and foes were always in the shadows. Things were dangerous enough lately as it was; but being the son of Elwing… It put him in more danger than most. Eärendil knew only too well that it would only be a matter of time before the remaining sons of Fëanor launched a full scale attack on the Havens to retrieve the Simaril his wife bore. 

Shaking his head quietly to himself, Eärendil noiselessly pulled the fluttering curtains to and shut the windows. Then just as silently as he had come he left and sought his own chambers across the corridor. Elwing was asleep on her side, her golden head facing the wall away from him. He smiled to himself; the little lamp she always kept by the bedside was still alight. She always kept it burning, in case he should return during the night. Sighing, he took off his own boots but did not bother to change, and crawled into bed next to her. She turned towards him slightly as he laid his head on her shoulder, his arms wrapped protectively around her body. 

"I missed you…" she muttered, reluctant to wake from sleep.

"I know," he replied, and took a deep, unsettled breath as his eyes flickered closed, and sleep took him at last. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Nesial hummed random and meaningless notes to herself as she watched the merrily boiling water in the small cauldron before her. At her side, a wooden platter with different piles of herbs and roots lay grated and finely chopped, ready for use. To some, her light hearted manner might appear…odd; but she had already commended herself for getting this far, and very far it was. The ingredients hadn't been hard at all to come by, as she had thought – besides, she had had the majority of them in her little store previously. The crushed moonflower hadn't been a problem either; the hills surrounding the settlement were littered with the little silver white blossom, and it had been easy to make excuses to get to them. 

She glanced around her; while collecting the flower, she had found a little notch on the north western side of the hill furthest from the entrance gate. It was more of a smooth hollow really, hidden by reedy grasses and two large thorny thickets from the prying lights of all below her; perfect for a certain someone needing secrecy to prepare potions and cast charms.

The water came now to the boil, and she tipped a powered blue root and the moon flower in the cauldron. There was a faint venomous hissing and a light, silvery steam rose on the surface, which had turned shocking electric blue. She carried on humming, stirring the pot gently for exactly twenty turns in a clockwise direction. Next, she picked up a handful of thick, rubbery dark green leaves and sprinkled them in too, waiting until the water had become a more subtle blue grey before pouring in the ten drops of honey nectar. Now she stirred the potion vigorously, until it was not so watery and more like a soup, though completely smooth and now a summery peach hue. She pulled the lines of the spell book up from the back of her memory… _"When forty times the pot hath churned, lay it still 'til potion's cooled; Add the essence of thy choosing, and thy desire thou shalt see in the pool…" _At least… Well, it was something like that, she assured herself. 

When he reached thirty her arm began to moan in protest, but she kept going, forcing her cramping elbow to keep turning… Thirty eight… thirty nine… forty! Sighing in relief, she abandoned the mixer and allowed her arm to collapse in her lap. With her other arm, she pulled a small lock of auburn brown hair from her pocket; Elrond's hair, the essence of her choosing. She'd snipped it quickly from the back of his head as she'd left. She had hidden behind her curtain barrier, listening as Káno administered more of the Darquaril to his new toy, and Nesial had found her knuckles were white and shaking by the end of it. But it hadn't taken as long this time, and the screams not as loud – but just as haunting… Nesial shuddered, despite the warm of the little fire. As far as she knew, he was back to being the empty slave now. Not for long though, she though; not for long now, either way.

The potion cooled fairly quickly once it had been moved from the heat, and Nesial knelt over it, hovering hesitantly to check it was as it should have been, before dropping the fine hair in. There was a loud hiss this time, and Nesial started and glanced around warily lest it had been heard, but her fears were unfounded. The surface of the brew began to bubbly and froth now, gurgling and spitting so that she had to stand back for safety. 

After a few moments though, the potion calmed down and as she stepped forwards, she gasped in surprise. It was like being taken upon the back of an eagle, soaring through the sky; the path led her away from the camp, back through the hills and across the plains, until she could soon see the forest looming in the distance. She leant to the side, almost falling over as the smooth flight of the spell swerved along the forest edge, so close and so real she felt she could reach out and touch it – but of course, she knew better. The landscape flew past her and she have fancied she could even feel the wind on her face as she went. Quite suddenly, the forest dropped away from her left, and she just saw a short green hill before the vision swooped abruptly down the far slope, into a sleeping silent village. The journey began to slow now, but not before jumping swiftly upwards to pause, looking through a large window into a dark room, though the curtains were half shut. The vision moved slowly, stealthily now as it passed through the keyhole of the window lock, and came to rest above the figure of a sleeping boy.

Nesial almost cried out, but caught herself just in time; by all she held dear, she swore that was Elrond she was looking at!!! It had to be – the same, ivory skin and dark braided hair; same height and build down to the very last detail – even the clothes he wore were the same as they had found Elrond in!

"Twins," she murmured," I might have known – well that's _very_ interesting…"

Now was not the time to ponder such thoughts though, and she well knew it; here was where the real magic began. Settling herself cross legged in front of the cauldron, she rest her hand son her knees and half closed her eyes, taking deep, lung filling breaths, but always keeping the image of Elros within her sight. Gradually, she felt herself descending into a state of utter calm, and with her mind, gently began to reach out to the unsuspecting twin…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Elros tossed fitfully in his sleep. He was having the strangest of dreams… He was standing out on a tall green hill in the midday sun, far from anywhere he knew, and yet it seemed familiar. Beside him on the hill was an old tree, weather and worn and twisted with years, and it was so high that it pierced through the clouds over head. In the lower boughs of the tree, Elrond had caught his legs around the thickset branch and was swinging down in front of his brother, laughing and calling for Elros to join him. But Elros couldn't – he couldn't move, there was something keeping him still. Try as he might, his legs simply wouldn't work and he felt himself growing more and more frustrated, until Elrond disappeared up into the leafy canopy. 

"Elrond!" he called, "Elrond, come back! I can't go, wait for me!" 

Yet Elrond did not listen to him, but chuckled and vanished from sight and sound.

The world around him swirled suddenly, and all at once, Elros found himself sitting on a long, silver sanded beach. The waves lapped the shore gently – and it was night time, though the moon and stars were veiled by a thick cloud covering. Elros shivered, but did not get up. Rather, he sat and waited – but for what, he did not know. He just knew that somehow he had to wait. Somethin would happen.

He wasn't surprised when he heard soft footsteps behind him, but he span on the sand to face the new comer just the same, and his eyes went wide. A woman a few years older than him stood there, her rich copper ringlets falling like a waterfall and her inky eyes dark and keeping all their secrets. She was all in a floaty, translucent dress of pearly blue, and her girdle was wrought of sapphires, though the elegant material fluttered slightly in a non-existent breeze.

"Elros," he said, and her voice was deep and melodious like nothing Elros had heard before. He nodded hastily at her, and she held out a hand for him, helping him up. 

Still, he stood there staring, unable to take his eyes off of her, though he admitted he had seen elf maidens far more fair of face.

"Come with me, brother of Elrond," she smiled, and holding his hand she began walking him along the beach.

"How do you know my name?" he asked in bewilderment.

"I know many things," she answered mysteriously, "But do not be fooled, Master Elros; this is no dream you walk in now."

"I didn't think it was," confessed Elros, biting his lip, "It doesn't feel like it somehow…"

"No," she shook her head lightly, "It doesn't."

"Who are you?" he questioned curiously.

"My name is Nesial," she replied, "I am not of your people; though, my fate in entwined with yours." she added, sighing. 

Elros nodded silently, though he couldn't be sure he really understood.

"Your brother has been kidnapped, has he not? Come, keep walking," she motioned as Elros froze in shock.

"Yes – yes, four days ago," he told her.

"Four days ago… And you have less than that left before it is too late," she warned him seriously, "I can tell you where your brother is, Master Elros, for I am with him now – and I can tell you what you must do to save him."

"What?" exclaimed Elros, standing fast and whirling round in front of her. "You're with him now? How? Why? Where?!" he cried desperately. 

"Hush child, don't interrupt," she scolded him, and pushed him lightly aside. "Anything I tell you, you must, _you must_ - and I cannot stress this enough – you must remember. If you forget, then all is lost for us both. Do you swear? That when you wake, you will not forget?" 

"I – I swear," he promised, frantic to know more.

"First, gather as many men as can be found. You must have a well armed and mounted group if you are to do any good. You must follow the trail to the forest eaves – you did so before, but the prints stopped, did they not? That was my doing," she explained.

"Why?" was all he said.

Nesial sighed. "Because then I saw no reason not to," she replied quietly, "Because I was obeying my Master's commands."

"Surely this cannot be the will of your Master"? frowned Elros.

"No," she gave him a small smile, "No, it isn't."

He quirked up an eyebrow.

"Things change," she gave in explanation, but would say no more.

"Follow the trail – it will become visible to you as you travel, but for the most part you must keep to the forest edge for two days, at a gallop. Do not worry about your horses; I can help you there as well."

"What do you mean?"

"Inquisitive aren't we?" she laughed softly, "Just like you're brother… Very well, what I mean is I can keep up the strength of your horses for as long as you ride. You will have need of them when you reach your destination."

"Which is…?" asked Elros, leaving the question open for her.

"When you turn from the forest, go northwards towards a range of distant hills. They are like a maze; but do not be troubled. You will know the way when you reach it, but only you, so you will have to lead them."

Elros nodded gravely. Somehow, he knew this was more than a dream, and he knew she wasn't lying.

"And then?"

Nesial snorted. "I am not a warrior, Master Elros – what happens then is down to you." 

The mysterious woman stopped walking and turned to face him.

"You have only three days to reach him, before he is lost forever," she told him sincerely, and Elros got the feeling their little chat was drawing to a close. "Past that, I cannot protect him or you anymore. Do you understand?"

Elros nodded, and Nesial smiled at him.

"Good luck," she whispered, and gently kissed his forehead, sending wafts of scented water lilies over the young man, and he found himself growing sleepy. Feeling him grow drowsy, Nesial carefully lowered him to the sand then drew away.

"Until our next meeting." With that, she vanished into the dunes.

In his bed, Elros woke with a start, just as the first tinges of dawn crawled over the horizon in the east. Most of the townsfolk were still fast asleep, he knew – but he would find no rest. Not now. 

Jumping out of bed, he raced into his parents' room to find them both in the realm of dreams.

"Ada!" he shouted, eager to be up and gone, "Ada, wake up, wake up!"

Eärendil opened his eyes groggily to see his son practically bouncing off the walls.

"Elros…" he muttered, "What are you –"

"Ada, you must get up – I know where Elrond is!"

~

**DUN DUN DDUUUUHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well, well, well, things have now been set in motion that cannot be undone…**

**Gandalf: Erm - Estel?**

**…And fear not if you are troubled, for so are all who live to see such times…**

**Gandalf: peeved Estel?!**

**…But alas! it is not for us to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the plot bunny that is given to us –**

**Gandalf: ESTEL!!!!!! STOP STEALING MY LINES YOU THIEF!!!!!**

**0_0 Well, someone's touchy…**

**Please – no, I won't say it, I'm not writing for reviews anymore!!! But feel free to leave on, you know… ^_~**

**Loadsa love, Estel xxx**


	7. What have I done?

**Disclaimer:**** Noooopppppeeee….. Darn lawyers are still bugging me. Silly little creatures… swats at lawyer zooming past her ear**

**A/N****: I've done chapter seven, I've done chapter seven, neh neh neh neh, HEY! neh neh neh neh, HEY! Lol, what can I say, I'm quiet proud of myself… ^_~ Agins, bit of a monster chappie here, but that's just the way things work out.**

*****WARNING*** _IMPENDING CHARACTER TORTURE!!!_ Which was sooo much fun to write, but there you go, that's me! But to 'balance it out', there's a nice bit of Eärendil/Elwing/Elrond/Elros fluff in there too, so don't say I don't cater for all tastes! **

**sf**** – Teehee, yet again my only reviewer… Lol, I'm glad you enjoyed it; and if its angst you like, then hopefully this chapter too will be to your liking… Yeah, the Darquaril would have been permanent if Elrond had just been mortal I think. But Káno had never tested it on an Elf, even a half elf, so basically that's what's helping Elrond there. Go Elros! I'm looking forward to writing the next chapter actually – with any luck, it'll be the first interaction between Eärendil and Nesial =D – let the battle commence! ^_^**

**Well, enough of my rambles – on wit the story! ^_^ Enjoy **

**~**

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**Chapter Seven – What have I done?**

Elrond stirred slightly. He couldn't remember where he was, or why he was there. Only that he wished and hoped beyond all he was worth that he wasn't… That he wasn't in this dark, dismal place, where heavy, suffocating blackness was all he knew; that he wasn't forced to go on, minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day for all he knew, with all that was life and light hidden from him. And yet he wanted nothing more than for the darkness to fully take him, to envelope him completely and leave no room for wasted, faded hope. He would welcome death, if it came to him now but…

He was afraid… So afraid, of what the future held for him. Somehow, he knew this seemingly endless torture would cease, and soon. He couldn't say why he knew… Only that he did. Whether he was able or willing to resist it or not, some more powerful force or power would end this pathetic excuse of an existence. He only prayed it would be soon and swift, that he might be spared the final shame and pain of a drawn out death that he knew he did not have the strength to take. He did not want to beg for death, but he knew he would, before the end. Swift, painless… Soon.

That was all he hoped for.

~*~*~*~

Dawn was breaking. Nesial had risen before the sun had begun to tinge the dark and distant mountains with tender roses and violets. She was sat cross legged by the fire, her back to the open door of the main hall. Káno had left on some no doubt evil errand as she had woken, but she had carefully made sure that she avoided him. She didn't want to give anything away but – well, it didn't mean she had to go out of her way to go near him either. Besides, she didn't know if she could keep the seamless lie up constantly. Not to his face. It had been easy enough to keep it from him before, yes, but they had been small, trivial, insignificant things – not outright bloody mutiny!!!

As she stared unseeing into the dancing orange flames, she wondered absently how Elrond was faring. She had returned to bed down in the unholy hours of the morn, when the moon had still been high in the night sky, and he had been lying on his side stiff and rigid, though she knew not whether he had been sleeping. She supposed that by then, another dose of the Darquaril had been administered, but she couldn't say that it was this that worried her over much. He had already proved the effects were not long term, on him at least, and it was more likely than not his elven heritage that he had to thank for that. As for real long term effects… Well, one step at a time.

No, the one thing that had her worried was his state of mind. She had never experienced the effects of Darquaril Káno gave him (having had a small hand in its creation, she wasn't going to be _that_ stupid), but she had served her time as a slave, along with all her people. She knew how it felt to be treated as if you were worthless, nothing, simply another waste of space to be worked to the death. Then again, she had been lucky by these standards… She at least had known herself, she had still had control of her mind, even if hope had seemed too fantastical a fancy to dwell upon. She had still been Nesial, no matte what had happened… And she had not been alone; she had known that all her people were in it together, and that had been a comfort.

But Elrond didn't have that grace. He didn't have control of his mind, of who he was, of what he thought. He only knew what his Master told him, and beyond that… Nothingness. Pure, complete, unrelenting nothingness. He knew no emotion, no feeling, no real comprehension of his surroundings. And he was alone – all alone, in this foreign, fearful place, without even the thought of rescue. She couldn't think of anything worse or more terrifying…

Outside, she could hear the first mumblings and grumblings from the sluggish men, as they began their day, carrying his and that to and fro. The door was open, and the first golden beams of the sun that had finally fought their way over the hills and through steely clouds streamed down like the footsteps of Angels. Dust fluttered and twinkled gold, bathing in the glorious warm radiance, and Nesial smiled.

She left her spot by the fire, and proceeded to where she had left Elrond supposedly sleeping earlier. She drew back the curtain and was shocked to find Elrond in a defensive, crouched position, his knees pulled up to his chin, his arms hugging them tightly to himself as he rocked backwards and forwards. Occasionally, soft whimperings and groans escaped his torn dried bloodied lips, and he pressed his eyes deep into his knees, trying to blot out the world once and for all. His hands were gripped so tight they were white and shaking.

"Elf-boy?" she asked both curiously and anxiously, dropping down in front of him. "Elf-boy, you there?"

If Elrond heard her, he didn't respond. In fact, he didn't seem to acknowledge her presence at all, but continued to rock rhythmically, swaying a little unsteadily in his drained state.

Her hands fumbling slightly, she gently grasped his shoulders, and was surprised to feel how tensed and taut they were – it felt as though she was handing rocks, there was no give in the clenched muscles whatsoever. She had an awful feeling she knew where this was going, and it was risky – for them both. She placed her hands on his arms.

"Elrond?" she whispered, softly and motherly, while settling herself more comfortably upon the cushions – there was no saying how long this could take.

Closing her eyes, she once more crossed her legs and dipped her head slightly. She cleared her mind of all thought, relaxing her soul and body, embracing the warm nothingness that rushed to greet her, letting her conscience melt into the air. In a matter of seconds, she had fallen into a trance like state, oblivious to the outside world as though it did not exist at all. 

Now she turned her mind solely to Elrond; she focused all of her thoughts, tuning in every fibre of her essence to the melancholy and faint song that stuttered and faltered in Elrond's heart. Very gradually, she felt herself descend into a dank, dark tunnel. It was long and straight and endless… But she knew it wasn't, and she knew that she must reach the end of it. She set off at a brisk walk, and as her mind's eye adjusted to the darkness, she began to see that the tunnel was lined on both sides with hundreds and hundreds of solid black doors. Some were bolted with heavy locks, and though she glanced at them as she passed by, she gave little other heed to their presence.

The further along the tunnel she got, however, the more doors there were that seemed only to be pulled to, so that slivers of light danced through the tiny gaps. One in particular caught her eye. There was a thin slice of shimmering flickering light streaming through the gap between the frame and ajar door. 

Nesial paused by it, unsure of whether she should see a past that was not hers to see, nor was it her business here… But even as she thought this, it seemed that a gust of salty wind flew past her and threw the door wide open, pushing her forwards with it…

~*~*~*~

_Joyous song and music floated upward from afar, and the familiar room was lit by a single, silvery lantern, resting upon a small wooden table between two identical beds. Beneath the covers of each was laid an identical sleepy but stubborn dark haired child, both of whom seemed to be refusing rest. Sitting opposite each other were a man and woman; his hair was dark and flowing like his sons, yet hers was as golden as the vanished sun below the horizon, though the boys had her sparkling grey eyes._

_"But __Ada__," complained one," We're not tired! Hon-hon-honest!" he protested, attempting and failing to stifle a yawn. Eärendil smiled at his eldest, quirking up an eyebrow._

_"Is that so?" he teased lightly, lovingly tracing the back of his hand down Elrond's cheek._

_"Yes, it is…" came the stubborn reply. Elwing laughed._

_"Naneth, _please_ let us go back down," pleaded Elros, careful to cover his drooping eyes with his arm so she would not see. Their mother, however, was no so easily fooled._

_"If you were to go back to the festival, you should curl up asleep under the table," she chided, though the sparkle never left her eyes, "And you can hide your face all you like, my love; I know you are falling asleep."_

_Elros quickly moved his arm, and gave her the most innocent expression he could muster._

_"No I wasn't…"He too yawned._

_"We promise we will tell you all about it tomorrow," Eärendil assured them._

_"But it won't be the same," grumbled Elrond._

_"It's not fair – all the other boys got to stay," added Elros._

_"That, my love, is because all the other boys are far older than you are," smiled Elwing, tweaking his nose._

_"Aw Naneth – gerroff…" mumbled the younger twin, pushing her arm away._

_"When you are old enough, we promise that you can lead the festivities all night long," said Eärendil, glancing between his sons, "But that time is not now. Come on little ones, you have practice tomorrow; if you do not rest you will never wake up in time."_

_"Practice is boring," groaned Elrond, supported by a hasty nod from his twin._

_"Elrond," his father warned, his tone still gentle but edged with a firmer note._

_Elrond fiddled with the bed linens, not looking up._

_"Sorry __Ada__," he apologised._

_"Very well you two – we shall come to a compromise. If you cannot rejoin the festival, than neither can we," said Elwing, sitting up slightly, "How does that sound?"_

_Elwing suppressed the smile tugging at her lips as Eärendil glanced swiftly at her, and the twins sat frowning in thought._

_"And what, pray tell my Lady, are we going to do instead?" questioned Eärendil, an uncharacteristically wolfish glint in his eye. Elwing gazed him in mock innocence, much like her son had done._

_"Well, I've no doubt you could think of something, my Lord," she winked._

_The twins exchanged befuddled glances, and then shook their heads in resignation._

_"I suppose we could agree to that," sighed Elrond deeply, finally beginning to give into the warm darkness tugging at his mind as his eyes fluttered closed._

_"But it only means we shall have to ask Talan in the morning…" defied Elros, adamant till the last as he too closed his eyes. Their parents chuckled softly, stroking their rich silky dark hair._

_"Quell kaima, little ones," whispered Elwing, brushing the top of Elros' head with a tender kiss, "Sleep well."_

_With a glance at their sleeping boys, who were finally sound asleep, husband and wife rose to their feet and took the little lantern with them, pausing in the doorway. As Eärendil placed it on the hanging outside, Elwing turned and leant against it, her arms folded across her chest as she watched her sons wander into the realm of dreams._

_"We are blessed, my love," she murmured._

_"I know it," Eärendil replied, winding his arms around her waist and shifting her weight so that she leant against him. Elwing allowed herself to melt into his embrace, resting her head under his chin. Gently, he kissed the top of her head with small, sweet kisses, taking delight in the soft aroma of jasmine and lavender in her hair, working his way down her delicately pointed ears and neck. Grinning, she allowed him to turn her around as he traced the line of her slender jaw._

_"Believe me, my love," he barely breathed into her, "I know it…"_

_As she placed her arms around his neck, he kissed her smooth red lips…_

~*~*~*~

Nesial pulled herself forcefully from the memory, stumbled back into the corridor. The door swung heavily shut as though in defiance of her being there, and echoed loudly up the long tunnel. 

For a moment she remained stock still, mulling over what she had seen. A happy, happy family… Something she had never known or seen before. With children and a mother, and a father, as it should be… Almost without her realising it, a new emotion began to stir in her heart. It took her by surprise, and for a few seconds she was at a loss as to what it could be; then she understood; Jealousy. She was jealous of Elrond… 

How ironic.

Gathering herself together, she set off at a near run back up the corridor, though this time she kept her mind more focused on her purpose, and did not glance at the half open doors on each side. 

In the murky gloom, she carried on striding along the tunnel for what could have been anything from five minutes to five ages of the world – she knew full well that time never seemed to pass in the mind. At one point though, the tunnel appeared to come to a dead end. At first she was alarmed and puzzled, but on closer inspection, she saw that in fact the tunnel did not end; it made a sharp right angle, and in the almost lightless place she had not seen it. Sighing in relief, she turned right and went on her way.

No sooner had she stepped around the corner did she feel a strong wave of icy coldness wash over her, as though the ocean's had been unleashed above her head. She froze bang where she was, unable to move for the sudden shock of the plummeting temperature. Shaking, she tried to regain control of her shuddering breathing and forced her feet to move on again, making them take these last few steps. For these were the last few now, she deemed. This bitterness, this biting chill… It came from a broken, lonely soul. It could mean only one thing; Elrond was close – _very_ close. 

Shaking herself mentally, she went on up this new corridor with warier steps. There were still doorways here – but they were flung wide open to the tunnel, and a flaring red glow came from within them, no matter what the pictures. Comprehension dawned as Nesial realised what the sharp turn in the tunnel symbolised, and steeling her jaw, she set her eyes on a white light that seemed far and distant from her, though she knew that in reality it was not far at all. That was the end; that was where he was… Now she just had to get there. 

Keeping her eyes fixed on the unmoving point ahead of her, she just kept placing one foot in front of the other, not bothered how long each step took, just knowing that each step closer was each step less. 

Gradually, very, very gradually, the gap between her and the light seemed to begin to lessen… She was doing fine, just a little while longer, and she'd be past these doors… She didn't fully understand why she shouldn't look in these doorways – only that she couldn't. For she knew what she would find there, and the thought terrified her. Swallowing hard, she persisted, thanking all the Powers above for the strength of will.

Suddenly, a high pitched, shriek of pain rang shrilly through the air from her left; before she realised what she was doing, her eyes flickered towards the source of the sound, and she was drawn towards one of the last doors – her stomach gave a sickening lurch as she recognised the hall from the night before…

~*~*~*~

_Elrond's hands were bound to two metal pikes, driven into the hard ground between the many cushions on the floor. His top half was striped bare, his hair pulled up to reveal a back of flawless and smooth skin. He was shaking – uncontrollably. _

_"Coward," sneered a coldly familiar voice, "You are a worthless coward…"_

_Káno strolled at his ease around the wreck of nerves forced into kneeling before him. In his hands he twirled a leather whip with many tails, each ending in a small but strong ball of steel. _

_"Who is your Master, elf-brat?" demanded Káno suddenly, stopping just in front of Elrond's range of vision, swinging in the flail low so he could see it._

_Elrond wanted to answer – at least part of him did. Part of him wanted to scream and plead and beg for mercy, to tell him that Káno was his only Master, now and forever… But another part of him didn't. The other part of him was defiant, proud, and strong. 'Don't listen to him,' it said; 'You are no one's Master but your own. He cannot break you, not now, not ever.'_

_"I do not value stupidity as a characteristic in my slaves, elf-brat," commented Káno lightly, as though it were a normal conversation._

_Again, part of Elrond wanted to tell Káno he would serve him to the death, no matter what came – but the defiant part of his mind was growing stronger now. It was becoming clearer… 'Hold your own – don't let him think he's won, not now…'_

_Káno sighed. "Very well," he said heavily, as though Elrond was forcing him to do something he would really rather not. He walked around beyond Elrond's sight, and for a moment, there was silence; Elrond held his breath, waiting for what was to come._

_A searing, blinding pain that made yellow stars dance in front of his eyes came down heavily between his shoulder blades, forcing the breath out of his lungs in a strangled cry. The leather tails slashed at his skin as though they were made of fire, scorching his back, and the metal balls collided with dulls thuds on his skin, already leaving large bruising. Ten times Káno hit him, each one timed so that his victim could not collect himself; but Káno had never beaten an Elf before, nor any of that blood, and he underestimated the strength of will that Elrond was gaining by the minute. Determined not to let Káno have the satisfaction of hearing him moan or cry or utter even the merest of breaths, he bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, kleepign his breathing deep and steady._

_Káno paused now, and walked around to face Elrond again._

_"I ask you again," he said casually; "Who is your Master?"_

_Gathering all the returning strength he had, Elrond did a very unwise and foolish thing; he spat at Káno's feet._

_"I am no one's slave," he muttered, "And I will never bow to you!"_

_Káno's voice dropped to a dangerous level and he stooped to look Elrond in the eye. His emerald depths were ablaze with cold fury, and he grasped Elrond's chin roughly, forcing him to keep eye contact._

_"What did you say?"_

_"I am Elrond, son of Eärendil, born of the Free Peoples, and I will never, ever bow to you!"_

_Káno shook his head as he stood up._

_"Dear, dear me…" he said calmly, though there was a malicious bite in his words; "Your manners have clearly declined. Perhaps you need a lesson in politeness, and recognition of your betters and superiors…"_

_Elrond did not reply but set his jaw and prepared himself for the worst. In truth, he had no idea just how much of this he could take; but he swore to himself now, he would defy all Káno did to him and die free if it meant doing so. _

_Káno composed himself, standing at Elrond's back. The skin was an angry red from the few blows it had been dealt, but was no where near drawing blood yet. Káno smirked – perhaps this elf could be fun to toy with after all…_

_He began thrashing at Elrond's back with hard, heavy strokes, all the time keeping up a rhythm, pounding relentlessly into the soft flesh. He was careful not to wear himself out though – word had it that elves took far longer to break than mortals…_

_At first, Elrond was able to stay his strength as he had done before hand. He focused as clearly as he could on the hazy outlines of his father and brother in his mind, bit his tongue, and tried desperately block out the pain that was coursing through his back. He could do this; he could keep it up… Yet as each moment passed with lash after lash after lash, Elrond felt his will beginning to wane, and try as he might, he could not keep his breath from speeding up, occasionally escaping his lips in soft sighs, almost inaudible to Káno's ears. _

_This did not please the commander. This did not please him one bit. But now, the brat should have been screaming in pain at his feet, begging for him to stop – not holding out against him!!! Káno stopped his beating for a few moments, his cheeks a little flushed from the exertion. Elrond's back was bleeding openly now, though not enough for his liking…There must be something that could break his will, something easily within his grasp…_

_He snapped his fingers; the witch! She was bound to have something hidden in those stores of hers that would shatter the iron fortress Elrond has so hastily built up. Giving the young man a swift kick in the ribs that made him cough sharply, Káno tore into the little screened area. The red headed woman was nowhere to be seen – yet that bothered him little, she came and went as she pleased anyhow. But somewhere around here was were witches potions and spells; a quick glance showed him to be right, for sure enough, between her bed and the hanging was a largish leather bag, full to the brim. A malevolent smile creeping to his lips, he knelt and ripped it open, shifting through the bottles until he found something he recognised; he didn't want to kill the elf-brat, after all; there was still much fun to be had. At last, he came across a glass bottle with a stopper, in side of which swirled an innocent golden liquid, light as air, twinkling like the dust in sunlight. Perfect…_

_In moments, he was behind Elrond again; the young man had not moved form his position on the floor, but his breathing was slightly steadier again. Not for long, smirked Káno, and quickly unstopped the bottle._

_"Do you know what this is?" he breathed in Elrond's ear, leaning against his bleeding back. Elrond did not answer, but gritted his teeth and shut his eyes tightly. _

_"The witches use it to guard their homes, to ward off evil spirits; while the more practical of the world use its purposes for driving dogs mad before they are set upon the boar in the ring," he cackled softly, his hot breath warming Elrond's neck, though he shuddered. "I have heard tell that its creation with open wounds is… Unbearable. I know of men who would fight till the last who have wept like maids under its influence. Yet, I have never heard of its use on an Elf – what say you that we amend that oversight?" _

_When Elrond once again didn't answer, Káno laughed out loud, a hideous, spine chilling mirthless sound, and Elrond trembled at it; anything that could bring such joy to this creature was sure to be his undoing._

_Still chuckling to himself, Káno pulled out a thick, dragon hide glove to protect his hand – no point in putting himself at risk. Carefully, he poured the liquid onto an old rag, making sure to saturate the cloth so that it dripped freely; then with harsh movements, he began scrubbing as hard as he could into the bleeding welts on his victim's back._

_Elrond screamed – he could not help it. The sound was ripped forcefully from his lips, torn from his lungs as all illusions of strength fled him in the merest of moments. Káno rejoiced in the shrill noise, and grinning rubbed harder, making sure the poison entered every gash. Before long, Elrond was no longer in control of his emotions or his body; his frame was racked with retching motions, rocking backwards and forwards uncontrollably, and his screams sped from the hall, echoing in the surrounding hills for miles. He could not breathe; the air caught in half sobs in his throat, choking him._

_"Pl – please!" he begged, unable to stop himself, "Please, d-don't!"_

_"I'm sorry, I can't hear you there," murmured Káno cruelly, and brought the bottle up again – to hell with the cloth, it was only getting in the way!_

_"No – n-no, please – pl-please!" his sobbed, his broken spirit trying desperately to flee its tormented vessel, yet unable to go. _

_"You will beg for death before I am finished!" roared the commander, and emptied the entire contents of the bottle down onto Elrond's back. _

_The half elf shrieked and cried in pain; such unimaginable, unrelenting pain! He could not take this, he could not do it – he was too consumed by its fiery grip now that he was beyond any form of shame. _

_The bottle was empty now; but Káno knew he would need no more. Perhaps another flogging would drive the message home, once and for all. _

_Without warning, he sprang to his feet and once more began ruthlessly flailing at Elrond's back, his eyes alight with cold fire, the leather thong slicing mercilessly into the boy's flaring skin._

_Tears streamed down Elrond's face, unchecked and unmarked, soaking the pillows below him._

_"I b-beg you!" he choked. "I – I – pl-please!"_

_Káno merely cackled insanely as he beat him._

_"No – no!"_

~*~*~*~

For the second time that night, Nesial stumbled out of the memory of Elrond, but she was blinded by tears. Throwing herself from the evil thoughts, she landed back in the red lighted corridor in a sobbing heap of guilt and sorrow, screwing herself up into a ball as she wept into her chest. She… She had caused that! The potion, it had been hers, it was her fault! Shame coursed like ice and fire all at once through her veins; for she knew of the torture that Káno had tormented the elf with – she knew it well. And there was no other spell, enchantment or curse upon the earth that could rival the evil of what he had done; of what she had done… 

She couldn't do this. She was powerful, but not this much so. She couldn't deal with this. She just couldn't. It was far beyond any skills that she yet possessed. 

Even as she began to think these despairing thoughts, the corridor around her seemed to grow hazy and shadowy, fading back into nothingness, and then into the orange hued light of the hall. 

Gasping for breath, she fell backwards onto the cushioned floor, her chest heaving as air fought its way into her burning lungs, and her stomach threatened to hurl its non existent contents upwards, and she felt acidic bile rise in her throat.

"I was wondering when you would be done," a lazy voice drawled from behind her. She did not even bother to look around.

"What – did – you – do?" she ground out, her jaw refusing to work.

"Oh, I believe you've already seen that…" came the off-hand reply.

"I hate you," she spat at his feet, spinning onto her side.

"I assure you, the feeling is entirely mutual," he sneered.

"If I cannot bring him back, you will have lost your chance!"

"Do not throw empty threats at me, witch," he warned, "I know your magic enough to know you lie. I do not need him here with us; he is better handled this way."

"And I suppose you only have his best interests at heart?" growled Nesial sarcastically.

"Of course – now leave him. I suggest you get some rest my dear – only three days to go now, and I believe you are going to be rather busy…"

With strong, rough hands, he grabbed her arms and yanked her to her feet, pulling her face so close it was only millimetres away.

"Do not cross me, Carandol," he threatened, his eyes glaring and narrowed. "I will not take incompetence or arrogance, least of all from a pathetic wench like you."

Nesial wisely chose not to respond, but the fury in her face spoke volumes.

"Go now – and do not trouble me any more this day. I may not be able to contain my wrath so well…" With that, he shoved her outside and towards the door. Before the hanging swung closed, Nesial caught one last glimpse of Elrond, kneeling at Káno's feet; a helpless prisoner once more to his own impending doom.

**~**

**Dun, dun, DUH!!!!!!!! Okay, I should really stop putting sarcastic comments after endings like that… Meh, why break the hobbit of a lifetime? **

**cringes at awful pun**

**Well, as I mentioned earlier, I'm really looking forward to writing the next chapter – and me thinks its also about time we started to learn a little more about Nesial herself, don't you?**

**no response**

**Well, I do, so that's what ya'll gonna get ^_^**

**Please review!**

**Loadsa love, Estel xxx**


	8. A Fireside Tale

**Disclaimer:**** Yeah, that's right!!! I own all of Tolkien's stuff, because he nicked it all off of me. The fact that I was born decades after him is nothing to with this, whatsoever. So there. ^_^**

**A/N****: Okay, here we are at chappie eight!!! Well, not so much angst or action here, you might be glad to hear ^_~ but we do find out a lot about Nesial; though, of course, not all… ^_^**

**sf****: ****Yet again, my lovely, only reviewer… You crazy bean, you read it twice?! Yeah, maybe it should be a sharp corner.. Basically, the corridor is meant to represent Elrond's life, and obviously the doors are all the memories he's ever had. The 'sharp corner' is meant to show when he first met Káno, and things started to get real bad… The light in that part of the corridor is red because it's a harsh, angry, painful colour, reflecting how Elrond is feeling at the time. Sorry, I didn't want to make it too obvious because it would away the whole air of it; I wanted to see if anyone could work it out. Apparently I'm just too… _Intelligent_ for you… ^_~ **

**Elrond: *bursts into fits of hysterical laughter***

**Oi, button it slave boy!!! You're not out of it yet, not by a long shot…**

**mumbles about cheeky half-elves… **

**Anyways, enough!!! On wit the story – enjoy!**

**~**

****

**Chapter Eight – A Fireside Tale**

****

_Maybe if I keep it so that no one else can see;_

_Maybe if I hold it tight_

_And never let it see the light,_

_They won't know that it's me._

_And if no one ever tells what really happened there_

_It will lie unspoken;_

_Lonely and long broken;_

_A long forgotten token_

_Of a burden none could bear._

_-- Estel_

_~*~*~*~*~_

Night was closing in, and all about the sixty or so riders the silver lit hills loomed with hypnotic, swaying grasses. All their horses were drenched with sweat and flecked with foam, but none yet yielded to the weariness that threatened to take them; they had come this far, they would not let their riders down now. Elros rose at the head of the group, staring about himself bewildered and confused. True to her word, Nesial had uncovered the tracks that had lain in secret for days, and they had been easy to follow, for they were neither cryptic nor misleading. Least ways, not until they had entered these confounded hills… All tracks had stopped, and the grassy, beaten tracks revealed to clues as to where they should go. Elros had taken a chance and ridden a straight road so far, with few turns, always the feeling of unease and sense of disorientation growing on him; now he had lost all clear idea of where they were, or even in which direction they were facing. 

"Elros?" he father asked gently, coming up beside him. The young man couldn't look him in the eye; if he failed now, he let them all down; his father, his mother – his brother… Any mistake on his part now could prove fatal to Elrond, but there was nothing he could do.

"Ada – I don't know," he replied in a small voice, fumbling with his reins slightly. His bay steed shifted its legs a little.

"My son," said Eärendil quietly, "Do not blame yourself for this. You have led us far, and we must be close now. This is not your fault. Do you understand?" 

Elros nodded, but still would not look at his father.

"Elros, please," Eärendil cupped his hand around his youngest's chin, tilting his head upwards. Elros unwillingly met his father's gaze. "I have nearly lost one son; I will not lose you both," he breathed.

"I know, Ada."

Eärendil sighed, and pulled his hand away. He couldn't begin to imagine what this was doing to the child; he had lost a son, but Elros had lost a part of his soul. The twins were closer than any brothers he had ever known, and they always seemed to know what the other was thinking; indeed, he believed they could hold silent conversations, with never a word being spoken.

"Come – perhaps we should take the east road," he called to the men, nudging his own chestnut stallion forwards – then dropping his tone so only Elros could hear, he whispered, "Least ways, I think its east…"

Elros grinned at his father, and followed him down the track. Still, he couldn't shake the eerie feeling the place was giving him; and though there was no light from the shrouded sky, he swore that at times he could make out statues and carven rocks upon the hill tops.

Several things then happened all at once; the horses, each and every one, froze stock still in the path, ears pricked forward, nostrils quivering, the whites of their eyes rolling as they peered into the murky night. The men all felt a cold, icy shiver creep from the tip of his toes up their spines, making them start – and on the road ahead, the air seemed to grow darker and thicker, and soon a thick mist was swirling around their knees, pouring out on them from some unseen origin. 

"What evil is this?" murmured Eärendil, more to himself than anything, but Elros caught his words.

"Ada?"

Eärendil glanced at him worriedly. The horses began to snort and shift uncomfortably, tossing their heads, refusing their owners commands.

"All of you; stay together!" ordered Eärendil. "Form a circle, don't lose sight of anyone!"

Even as the men hurriedly followed the instructions, the mists grew thicker and thicker, encasing them in a shadowy grey. Horses whinnied frantically for one another, as the men cried out and shouted. Then something snapped; the horses were weary and worn, and could take no more. With wild, fey neighs, they reared and tossed their riders from the saddle. Elros felt himself sliding down his horse's shoulder and land heavily on the ground as it galloped madly away; all around him he could hear the sounds of the men in similar situations, and the air was filled with the sound of thundering hooves and terrified cries. Then the hoof beats died away, and all that was left was the men, calling for one another, making sure all were present and uninjured. 

Elros stifled a moan as he rose to his feet, rubbing his shoulder where he had landed, but it was nothing more than bruising he knew. In an instant, he found his father by his side.

"Elros, are you alright?" he asked urgently, casting swift looks all over his son to check for injuries.

"I'm fine Ada, honestly," he assured him. Eärendil nodded and squeezed his arm. 

"I want you to stay in the middle of the group; don't you dare wander off, do you understand?"

"Ada," Elros began indignantly, "I'm not a child, I -"

"Then don't argue with me! Go, I have enough to worry about without wondering where you are."

Grumbling, Elros began to obey his father's wish as he turned away to organise the men – but at that moment, something caught his eye, and his stopped, gazing at it. He frowned, squinting into the gloomy fog. Around him, he could hear the men frantically following orders from his father, rushing to and fro, forming a tight group. 

Suddenly, it seemed to his eyes that one patch of fog hovering before him began to deepen. A shadow flitted closer, growing larger by the minute, yet still and uncertain haze. Elros felt a strong hand on his shoulder try to pull him back, but he could not be afraid of this thing that approached; it was almost as though there was a familiar air to it that Elros couldn't lay his hands on.

The shadow stopped. It was close enough now that Elros could plainly see it was a horseman, though the beast remained motionless where it stood. All about the men now fell silent, and the swirling misty air grew as tense as a taut bow string.

"Who are you?" called Eärendil at Elros' shoulder, his other hand upon his sword hilt and his voice commanding. "What devilry is this with which you are disguised? Show yourself!"

The horse stepped forward, nudged by a gentle squeeze from its rider. It seemed that the fog retreated slightly, but only to form a thick ring around them. They and the horseman stood in the centre, hidden from the rest of the world.

Elros' frown deepened, and he bit his lip.

"Who are you?" Eärendil repeated, loosening his sword in its sheath. His emotions were rising high, despite his attempts to stay calm; they were running out of time, and his son's life hung in the balance. He was not about to accept the petty games of vagabonds and fake magicians!

"Am I not known here?" came the reply. Elros stiffened – a motion that did not go unnoticed by his father.

"Go," Eärendil whispered, "I told you to get behind the line."

"No," Elros murmured, shaking his head, though his gaze never left the figure. 

"I'm not –"

"Master Elros," it greeted, dipping its head a little.

Eärendil started sharply.

"How do you know my son?" he demanded angrily.

"Your son?" questioned the stranger, clearly taken by surprise; "Well, that explains a few things I suppose…"

"Elros, who is this? How do you know this – this –"

"Careful now," warned the new comer derisively.

"Do not mock me, conjuror," growled Eärendil, and would have stepped forwards if Elros hadn't stopped him.

"No, Ada – no," he almost pleaded, his eyes poring into his father's, begging him to believe him. "She is right. I do know her."

"Her?" questioned Eärendil, startled.

"Do you not think that a woman travelling alone in these barren lands would make for a suspicious wanderer?" came a curt voice, its male façade thrown aside to reveal the biting tongue of a strong woman.

"Any traveller through these lands would make for a suspicious wanderer; but female traveller or no, you would do well to mind your tongue," advised Eärendil.

"So I've been told…" answered the woman in an off-hand manner.

"Nesial," said Elros hastily, stepping between them and the impending argument. "Please, come and speak with us - this is my father, Eärendil. You said I could lead them through the hills but…" He sighed, waving a careless hand to the pearlescent mists around them. "I am at as a loss as to where to go."

_Nesial, _thought Eärendil; _this is the one he spoke to_?

Nesial nodded, leaping off the horse's back. "Off course, I had planned to just give you the route," she explained, standing in front of him and casting back her hood. The men gasped in shock as her distinctly feminine features were revealed, save for Elros and Eärendil alone.

"Why didn't you?" Elros asked confusedly.

"Ah… Well…" Nesial stammered apprehensively, and carefully avoided the eye contact of father and son. "Circumstances are always changing; you know that… I can just do more – _good _here, than with Elrond now…"

"What do you mean?" inquired Eärendil sharply at the sound of his lost son's name.

"I mean… There's nothing more I can do for him – not now – don't you start!" she protested, as she saw Eärendil fit to burst into a torrent of rage; "I said there's nothing _I_ can do. He's retreated into his own mind, Eärendil, he's too far beyond my reach – and it's not my place to go there. The only people who can save him now are you."

There was a heavy silence as the full implications of Nesial's words sunk in.

"Then you'd best take us to him," said Elros hoarsely, afraid and prepared for the worst, but determined to fight it.

"My thoughts exactly, Master Elros," nodded Nesial, and turned to remount her steed, which had not moved from its spot.

"Excuse me," coughed Eärendil, "But I think you'll find, that we no longer have any horses." He stressed the syllables accusingly.

Nesial blinked at him. "Oh… Well, we'll stay at a walking pace."

"Wait," called Eärendil. Nesial paused and cocked her head to one side, watching him.

"We need to wait?" she asked incredulously.

"My son may claim to know you," he ground out, trying to keep him temper in check, "But I have never seen you before in my life. Give me one good reason why I should place any trust in you?"

Nesial stepped back towards him as he gently but firmly pushed Elros aside.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I have this quite right; you want to waste time by bombarding me with useless questions while your son's life hangs in the balance?" she mocked a little spitefully' this was the last straw for the mariner. A cold flame erupted in his eyes, and his voice grew more dangerous that any there had ever before heard it.

"And whose fault is that?" he growled, "How dare you – you know nothing of what I feel – now who are you?!" he demanded fiercely, grabbing Nesial's arm, "Where is my son?!"

"Kindly take your hands off me," chided the woman coldly, shoving him off her with a bite in her voice. "Your son is where he is."

"Do not play games with me," threatened Eärendil, his grip tightening on his sword hilt.

"Father," warned Elros, stepping up behind him.

"Stay out of this Elros." It was a command, not a request.

"You would do well to heed him," hissed Nesial, and as their eyes met, sea-grey foam clashed with living night, and it seemed as though a great and spectacular war were raging in the air between them; two great forces, struggling for dominance, bone-chilling and awe inspiring all at once, as a flash of lighting from a clear sky.

Suddenly, Nesial seemed to shrink and recoil beneath Eärendil's gaze, and within a matter of seconds, she looked not the youthful woman she was, but old and worn and tired. 

Elros' kind heart was concerned at once, and side-stepping his father, he laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Nesial?"

She uttered a soft sigh and turned away from them, her head in her hands. Perhaps she had known it all along, that it would always come to this; but a small part of her had hoped, had believed… But then hoping was fools; isn't that what she'd always been told? Yet as she looked upon Eärendil and Elros and all the men behind them, the solid, resolute strength and hope in their eyes was overwhelming. Could it really be true that such a forceful driving emotion was inevitably needless folly?

"Have you got somewhere we can sit?" she said at length, her voice stretched and thin. "This may take a while, for it is no short tale – and it is a sorrowful one."

Even the slowest of wits could have seen the complete change in her voice and pose now, and Eärendil had a clear eye; he could see she did not lie. His hand left his word hilt and came to rest on his belt.

"Come – we will make camp here tonight, though we had hoped to reach yours."

"It would be better for you to do thus," said Nesial gravely, her skin verging on grey in the half light of the mists around them. "There are some things that even the greatest of warriors cannot face in the shadow of night."

Eärendil did not press her further on this matter yet, though he knew the time was drawing nigh when she would tell them all.

At the word of their Lord, the men hastily began to build the first make shift camp they had set up in days – the first since they had left the Vales of Sirion in fact, for they had ridden straight for a day and a night, and this night again, and they were more worn than they were wont to admit – and they feared they would sorely miss their horses before long.

"Your horses…" murmured Nesial, casting her eyes at the whispered fears of the men. "Yes, this will not do… Hythel, come here." At her bidding, her horse nickered softly and walked over to her, the mare's mud stained coat still showing its strawberry roan colour. "Go after them, Hythel; tell them they have naught to fear, and bid them return. Their masters will need them with the dawn." At this, the mare lowered the head slightly, breathing heavily into Nesial's neck – then with a flick of her tail, she span and galloped off into the gloom after the escaped beasts.

Soon, hidden by the thick impenetrable mists Nesial kept to conceal them they warmed themselves around a small fire. The little orange flames flickered feebly against the grey backdrop, and seemed pathetic out in the vast wilderness; but they did not extinguish. 

Eärendil remained on his feet, gazing across the blaze at Nesial, who had seated herself on a large boulder opposite him. A blanket was draped around her shoulders, and Elros was preparing a weak tea to keep them all warm. For a short while none of them spoke, and though Elros and Nesial sipped gingerly at the watery substance, Eärendil had declined the offer, and his foamy eyes, alight in the fire, never once left the red headed woman.

"You are not what you appear, I deem," he stated quietly, breaking the lonely silence. Elros glanced between the two, but Nesial stared deep into the glowing embers of the fire.

"You are also older than you seem, are you not?" Again, no answer. Elros frowned and fiddled with his cup.

"Will you speak at all?" Eärendil did not doubt that that knowledge she held could unlock the mystery of his son's kidnap – and his rescue. But he knew they couldn't afford to wait for her conscience to finish its internal battle. Elrond's life hung upon an ever weakening thread.

"At least begin with how you came to be involved," pleaded Elros. Nesial's eyes did not leave the fire, though her inky depths did not reflect the dancing light.

"Involved? With my Master – with Káno? He is the one who has taken your son. But that is a long tale in itself," she half-smiled, "And only half of one at that. I will start at the beginning; then, perhaps, you will forgive me."

"Forgive you?" questioned Eärendil suspiciously, "Forgive you for what?"

When she replied, her voice was barely above a whisper.

"For wanting to survive."

Outwardly, Eärendil made no sign that her words had any impact; inwardly, his mind froze and his heart seemed almost to stop beating. _For waiting to survive_… But at what expense?

"Continue," was all he said. Nesial shifted herself again slightly, and began her tale. 

"My people," she said, "Were once not as you see me now. Once, long ago we were – how would you say it? I suppose in your terms we were spirits, essences, entities. Although that description is vague, that is the best I can describe it in your tongue. Least ways we did not have flesh, or a solid being; we existed, though not in your sense of the word. Therethal we called ourselves; created with the world when the stars were still being kindled. I remember that time so well," she paused, smiling. "It was a peaceful age, before the coming of the First Born."

Elros stared at her in shock.

"You – you remember?" he stammered, "But then that would make you – you must be –"

"Immortal?" she finished for him. Quickly closing his gaping jaw and nodding, she pondered for a moment on the comment. "I suppose… As an entity, yes I am immortal," she tried to explain, though she still looked rather confused herself. "We cannot die as you would say, just as we do not really exist. But these cages of flesh and blood and bone can be destroyed. They are merely containers, nothing more."

"How did this come to pass then?" asked Eärendil, her eyes poring into her. "That you were trapped within these bonds, for so I would guess."

"And you would guess well," she half laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. "The Therethal were not the only spirits to wonder the world before time began; nor were they like us. Another race there was, and they were everything we were not; where we rejoiced in the starlight, they hid in the shadows; where we flew and danced on the winds, they scorned they elements; where we rejected utterly the shadow of Melkor, so they received him, and gladly, seeking ever their own power.

"We understand now that it was by Melkor that they were created, and us by Varda; but we did not know that then, for we were young, innocent and ignorant. We tried to teach them the joy and peace that we felt, but they refused to see. Then the Dark Lord revealed himself to us, and to both races he offered the gift if power, wit the promise of greatness and dominion over others. The Therethal shunned him, and refused his proposal; but the others, the Dakah, hungry with greed flocked to him, and swore allegiance to the dark powers. And his first 'gift' as he called it, was of shape, of body; and he wrought for them a shell like to man, yet they were not so, for they could still see and feel the plane of existence in which we dwelt. Then a great and terrible power he gave to them; to claim us, to imprison us and take us as their slaves." She sighed before going on. "We fled, but it was useless. We were outnumbered and overpowered, and finally all our people were trapped within the dungeons of the Dark Lord. For countless years we were his slaves; forced to work on and on for him, driven to the ground, begging for it to end and yet unable to die. I – I thought there would never be an end to it," she stuttered emotionally, "I feared I would slave for him until the breaking of the world."

"Yet it was not so?" asked Eärendil. 

Nesial blinked away the tears in her eyes and shook her head.

"By some ironic, mocking twist of fate, it was the Dakah who saved us; unintentionally of course. The promises Melkor had given them had never been fulfilled, and they grew restless, stirred into rebellion. 

"So Morgoth, as he had now been named, bestowed upon them a terrible curse; the Dakah should have power and release from their mortal bonds – and we should join them. For Morgoth then cursed us, even as he had cursed our enemies, and we were trapped within the flesh and blood of these frail bodies. And we each, both races wish to be free of this wicked spell, but only with each other's aid can we do it. That was Morgoth's fault, I think," she frowned suddenly. "The Dakah are not an altogether evil being; rather they seek power, and look only to their own needs. Morgoth never truly had them, I don't think. He reckoned their pride would never allow them to let us help. But he was wrong!" she snorted suddenly, her voice laced with contempt. "He was so wrong."

For a moment more there was silence. Eärendil and Elros were finding this new influx of information near over whelming; though Eärendil was far better at hiding it than his son, who sat gaping at Nesial and hung off her every word. 

"How then," said Eärendil, starting the question Nesial had been dreading, "Does this fit in with my son?"

Nesial let her head fall into her hands and rocked slightly, but she did not answer, and Eärendil did not push.

"It was a final indignity," she sighed, raising her head again but always careful to stare into the fire and avoid the mariner's searching eyes, "An indignity that we should suffer to be free. Perhaps it has made me how I am now… You heard the description of my people. We knew no wrong, peace was all we were. Yet that is not something you would find fitting for me now, is it?" she scoffed.

Eärendil quirked an eyebrow in response, but moved no more. She was evading the subject, and his heart bode ill of it.

"Yes… well, a cruel world will make a cruel people after all, you know –"

"Woman," interrupted Eärendil, beginning to grow impatient. 

"Ah… yes… of course…" Nesial felt herself slipping back into old habits. "My people loved life, in all forms. So – so Morgoth's revenge, his final curse – would be – was – is – for us to be free, an innocent must be sacrificed."

Deadly silence fell. Even the men who were not meant to be listening forgot their pretence and felt a cold shiver run up their spines.

"What do you mean?" demanded Eärendil, his voice commanding once more.

"I mean – I mean, for a Dakah and a Therethal to re-enter the existence of the entities – the blood of an innocent must be spilt, to open the barriers – and free us."

Eärendil felt his blood boiling. "And my son," he ground out, "My son! You would kill him, so that you may return to your own, perfect world. How dare you! What gave you right to chose that your life should be valued over his?!" As the leader's hands came to his sword hilt, so all the surrounding men stepped forward menacingly.

"No – no! Not any more!" Nesial cried desperately, her voice unusually high. She had to make him understand! "No! Don't you see? That's why I've told you, why I'm here now! So I – so you can stop it!"

"How do I even know I can trust you?"

"Because by aiding you, I have lost all chance of ever returning to my own people!" she blurted out. Her breathing became hitched and tears stung the corners of her eyes. "The souls of a Dakah and a Therethal cannot just combine; we each have a match, and Káno is mine. Only with him, at this time can it be done, and with your son… So by bringing you here, I have sacrificed myself! Does that give you reason enough to trust me?!"

Eärendil froze, speechless. Part of him didn't want to believe her… But in his heart, he began to understand just what was at stake, and that this was much more than a kidnapping. Forces were at work here that he had not reckoned with, Nesial was one of them, and he feared where their titanic clash would lead.

"I – I am sorry, Nesial," he said thickly, his mind still buzzing and whirling. "Please, take some rest – you shall show us the way at dawn.

Nesial nodded, but still couldn't meet his eye. Oslarn stepped up from just outside the firelight, and lead her away to where a bed had been prepared for her. 

Elros watched her go with pained eyes, his mind just as jumbled as his father's.

"A – Ada?" he stammered, "How? Can we ever do this?"

As Eärendil looked upon his son, Elros saw for the first time not as a strong, unbeatable father, who could overcome anything – the mighty and renowned mariner, who sailed all the coasts from north to south; but as a simple man, worn and tired and unsure, weighed down by the world. He moved over to his son, and placed a comforting arm around his shoulder's.

"I don't know, my son," he sighed heavily, "I don't know anything any more."

**~**

**Woooo****….. Woooooooo……. So, what will become of this? Where is it all leading? Am I going to tell you? No! Lol, but lets do be serious…**

**Thanks, and please review!!!  
  
**

**Loadsa love, Estel xxx**


	9. The Silent Ones

**Disclaimer:**** AAAHHHH!!!!! *runs screaming from nassssty lawyers, who have been updated with Fell Beasts and Morgul blades* **

**A/N: Weell…. Erm, feeling as if I should have a lot to say and I don't… Mmmn… Well, this chapter isn't that bad by all angst accounts I don't think. But hey, I could be wrong; its setting up the action for the next chapter, which is going to be a pig's ear to write, I can just see it coming… Ah well, there you go! Oh, I know this doesn't really affect you a as much, but I had thought that I would only have another three chapters or so to this fic; however, a very cute little plot bunny just hopped up to me, and he's too cute to cast aside. But it's only little, honest! ^_^ So anyways, enough of me rambles…**

**sf**** - *blinks a few times at first paragraph* Right – you know how I said I was too intelligent? Erm, well, yeah – I was kinda wrong me thinks… ^_~ What a review! Wow! Go the long words! Well, thank you so much for being so faithful, you're like a writers dream reviewer me thinks… *hands over Dream Reviewer Award* Congratulations!!! Oh, and enjoy this chapter ^_^**

****

**Chapter Nine – The Silent Ones**

_Ages past have told our woe;_

_Slavery, grief and worn sorrow,_

_From ethereal flight_

_To eternal night_

_Dark in Morgoth's fortress of shadow…_

_…Still they will stand till all is gone,_

_Never more to breath, but turned to stone;_

_Their taken life_

_To end our strife;_

_Our final lament for the silent ones.___

_--Therethal Lament for the ages_

Nesial lay listening to the sounds of the men, shifting and moving ceaselessly through the night. Well, if that was what you could call it; unholy hour of the morning more like. Dawn was barely an inkling in the thought of the eastern sky, and the swirling pearlescent mists still surrounded them, warding off evil eyes. But they were there; watching, always watching, silent on the hill tops… She shuddered, mentally scolding herself as the slight movement caught the eye of the man guarding her - guard indeed. He had come over and assured her she was safe, but she knew he had been sent by Eärendil to spy over her. Men… if she was so safe, why did they watch her? No, she was safe from them; they, on the other hand, weren't necessarily safe from her. So in the end, the man was either stupid or lying blatantly – not that there was much difference between the two.

She remained silent and still for a moment, until she was sure the guard thought she was asleep. Not exactly the brightest star in the sky, she thought mockingly of him, but then again, as he didn't know her race rarely needed sleep, perhaps he could be forgiven.

She couldn't shake the feeling that they were being… monitored though. That eerie, watchful feeling that made the hairs at the base of her neck stand up to attention. She knew exactly what it was, and why – but the thought still revolted her; but maybe she was being too superstitious. By all accounts, she seemed to be the only person who was affected by their lingering presence. Perhaps she was over reacting; but she was still disgusted – and so she should be. For though all the ages of the world lay behind her, she was still of the Therethal, was she not? 

It was then that a thought struck her; not a shocking, sudden jolt that she had never before considered; rather, the dawn of true comprehension rose over her shadow-enshrouded mind. Yes, she was of the Therethal – but to save Elrond's life, she had given up her only hope of ever returning to her people. So what now? Where now did she stand in the great scheme of things, wrought long ago by Ilúvatar? Would she be doomed to the life of a mortal, prone to sickness and disease, and eventually incurable old age? Or would the years now pass her by like ripples in the ever flowing stream, leaving her far behind in time as one of the First Born? Or perhaps she would fade… fade into the shadows of long toppled mountains, to become no more than a memory. But in the end, even memories must fade away. And then she would be forgotten. Lost, and alone, and forgotten…

She blinked furiously at the tears swelling up in her raven dark eyes. She wasn't going to think about it, she refused to let this get the better of her, she could rise above this! Yet the harder she tried, the harder it became to fight the flood of emotions threatening to unleash themselves, and soon tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks like silver blue rivulets, flowing into the dusty, dry, unrelenting earth. She felt ashamed and disgraced – never, in her entire existence as this woman had she ever once let her emotions overcome her. Always, she had remained strong and in control, her unceasing vigil determined to maintain its stony, sometimes harsh surface. Even cold… But she had good reason, good reason to be cold! What had the world ever done for her, that it deserved so much as a kind word?! Why shouldn't she steel herself against an even steelier earth?! Bone dry, harder than mithril, icy and barren and cruel it had been to her, and they wondered why she was closed to it?!

A gentle hand on her shoulder made her jump and a half-sob escaped her throat.

"Nesial?" she heard Elros' concerned voice ask, but she ignored him, turning away  and squeezing her eyes tightly shut, trying to bury herself in the darkness.

"Nesial, what is it?" he asked anxiously, unsure of whether he should fetch his father. "What is wrong?"

It was a few moments before Nesial could trust herself to speak.

"I give up my life for your brother," she rasped, "and you ask me what is wrong?"

Elros sat gaping at her at a complete loss, his hand still resting in her shoulder. 

"There is nothing you can do or say, Master Elros," she whispered anguished, "Go back to your father."

"I would that I could help you," he said sadly after a few seconds, his tones soft enough that Nesial almost let herself believe it. "Do you wish to talk?"

Nesial let out a long, drawn-out sigh, rattling her tight chest, and rolled a little so he could see her face.

"And of what should we talk, Master Elros?" she asked quietly, she eyes shining with fresh tears and her pale skin glistening wit the old. "Your brother's fate perhaps is sealed; you and your father and your men, you too have your paths. You have your ends – but mine is lost to me. Where now will I go? What will become of me?" she asked forlornly, her breathing hitched.

"I – I don't understand," replied Elros truthfully.

"You wouldn't," she snapped venomously, and Elros pulled back.

"If you do not wish to elaborate," he said coolly, rising to his feet, "Then I'll be on my way."

"No – wait!" panicked Nesial, suddenly desperate for company, afraid of being left alone with her thoughts; Elros paused. "Please – don't go. Stay here."

Elros still didn't understand the woman, and was rapidly beginning to think he never really would. It seemed she changed her mind as swiftly as a change in wind. 

"Please stay," she repeated, and he did not fail to notice the pleading tone in her voice. He could not help but to think it strange that one who had appeared to stubborn and proud and sure of herself could be reduced to this; yet, he was reminded of the lost look he had seen in his father's eyes mere hours ago, and he thought perhaps he could begin to understand after all.

Nodding once, he settled himself down beside her – a swift nod dismissed the guard, who though uneasy, could see no real threat and eagerly went to rest. Nesial smiled at his retreating back.

"Your men are weary," she stated.

"Aye; they have ridden long and hard," complied Elros; "Even the hardiest of men must rest, though many of them would be loathe to admit it."

"Yet still they follow you unwavering," she pointed out, lying now on her back, trying to pick out stars in the sky.

For a fleeting moment, Elros was reminded of that early morning only a few days ago, though had seemed like a life age to think of it. All the unbelieving and sceptical faces when he had rushed shouting desperately into the village… Oh Valar, it had torn him apart that they could not see he told the truth. And when he had told his father of his visit from Nesial in his dream, although he had no doubt his father would trust him, he could not have said the same for the rest of the village. Yet they had come, and so Elros replied simply. 

"They are loyal men."

"And you trust them all?" she queried, one eyebrow hitched up.

For a moment, Elros feared she had read his thoughts. "With my life," he shot back quickly.

"I meant no offence…"

"I know," sighed Elros heavily, "I just – I've had a lot on my mind. Please forgive me."

Nesial paused before speaking again.

"I'll think on it. But it's not a very good excuse is it, Master Elros?"

He frowned at her.

"If you were to take a look around, you might chance to find that you are not the only one with a lot to think on of late."

"Of course," Elros realised too late, "Again, forgive me."

"Seems that I'll be doing a lot of forgiving tonight," she pondered out loud, "How ironic."

There was silken between them – not an uncomfortable one, but a natural quietness.

"They must have a mountain of faith in your father," she said suddenly, causing Elros to stare at her bewildered, "The men. They must have faith in your father."

"Oh – well, yes, I suppose they do," Elros admitted. "Most of them have been friends of his for a long time; some of them aided my Grandparents after the sack of Gondolin. A few are mariners like, but none are famed warriors. We are a community; my father may be their leader, but they follow him willingly into the unknown and rarely question his word. For the most part, he is their friend I think – countless times he has helped various people in their plights. This is their way of payment."

Nesial half laughed bitterly. "Though I get the feeling that mending a broken cart is not in the same league as being part of an armed assault in a rescue mission." 

Elros shrugged, but did not say anything, and Nesial nodded.

"You are very lucky," she said almost longingly, "Despite the situation… You are a very lucky person Elros. Don't ever forget that."

"I know," he told her, "And I won't."

A second, comfortable silence descended over them. Nesial squinted at the sky and blew slightly, the small action causing a slight opening to form in the mists directly above her, showing the indigo sky and strewn stars through the little peephole. Elros watched around them subconsciously for his father, but had no luck.

"You're very young you know," commented Nesial, as she caught a jewel-like star between her fingers. Elros jerked around to look at her.

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said," she answered coyly, "You're not even twenty yet, Master Elros."

"What of it?" said Elros stiffly.

"I was just thinking - how are young you are to be getting caught up in all of this," she explained, but seeing the stubborn glint in his eye added, "Well – in the grand scheme of things, I mean."

Elros dismissed the comment and rolled his eyes.

At that moment a group of men led by his father emerged from beyond the mists just across the camp. Straightening up, Elros saw they were making for him, and climbed to his feet. Nesial raised her eyebrows and sat up, her arms wrapped about the one leg pulled to her chest, while the other lay flat. 

Eärendil paused by his son's shoulder, his men hovering back a few paces.

"Nesial," he greeted, dipping his head ever so slightly, "I trust you have had some rest?"

Nesial responded with a single nod, gazing at him through narrowed scrutinising eyes.

"Good," he said somewhat more briskly. Elros looked at him expectantly; something was up, he could tell.

"Ada?"

"Not you, my son," said Eärendil, sparing his eldest child a weary smile.

"Me?" questioned Nesial.

"Aye; I think perhaps we need your knowledge to fully unravel a mystery," he answered rather cryptically, earning himself a confused glance from his son, and a sigh of realisation from Nesial.

"Oslarn," said Eärendil, turning to the Captain, "I will take a few men to the hill top; yet dawn is now approaching. Start to prepare the men for the last march – we leave as soon as the sun is fully risen."

Oslarn half bowed and hurried off to fulfil his orders. Eärendil's attention now turned back to Nesial. 

"If you would come with us, Nesial," said the mariner, offering her a hand. Slightly begrudgingly, Nesial took it and pulled herself to her feet.

"Ada?" repeated Elros, a tad annoyed at being left in the dark.

"You will get some more rest my son," Eärendil's tone was warm, but there was a definite commanding note to it. 

"Ada, I don't –" he began to protest, but his father silenced him with a look.

"No, Elros. I will not lead you to battle half alive for lack of sleep. It's too risky – and I just can't afford that right now. Besides," he added squeezing Elros' shoulder gently, "If something happened to you, your mother would kill me, battle or no…"

Elros snorted mirthlessly, but surrendered his case and took his pack from his pack from his back as the group of four or five men and Nesial moved off a bit, leaving father and son alone. Elros threw out the blanket then knelt down, adjusting his pack for a pillow.

"Thank you, my son," smiled Eärendil gratefully as Elros laid his head down, "I know this must be frustrating, but be thankful for the reprieve – I only wish it was I who was resting." With another gentle squeeze to his sons shoulder, Eärendil spring away after his men as Elros drifted into an uneasy sleep. 

~*~*~*~
    
    _"I'm feeling weak and weary walking through this world alone_
    
    _Everything you say, every word of it, cuts me to the bone_
    
    _I've got something to say, but now I've got no where to turn_
    
    _It feels like I've been buried underneath the weight of the world…"_

--Three Doors Down

Káno stood on the hilltop, watching his men work below him in the settlement like tiny, insignificant ants. They scurried around at his bidding, heedless of their Commander surveying them from above and dawn broke over the eastern horizon. Káno smirked too himself; soon, all this would be over – soon he would be free of this damned mortal body! Free of this pathetic plane of existence, and back with his own kind… The Dakah, part of their power once more. Ah, he could almost feel them now, swimming around him, calling him to them! He could hear them on the winds, in the waters, in the silence of the night. Pressing in, urging him on, pulling him closer… Yes, soon. 

"And you will save me, my little half-bred brat," he sneered, kicking Elrond's shivering form at his feet savagely. Elrond was sent sprawling across the ground, a soft moan escaping his lips as his ruthlessly shredded back screamed in protest at the treatment. Everything about him ached and pained in a way that he had never even thought possible, and thought was hard and sluggish as the Darquaril, now losing all effects as his body built up natural defences made his head pound mercilessly, throbbing like the steady beat of dwarven drums. 

"Oh yes," cackled Káno, looking back over the encampment once more, "Savour every last moment that you can, Elrond dear. This night, your blood will be all I need. All that I ever needed…"

Elrond coughed and spluttered as he choked on an intake of air, but he did not reply. A small part of his heart did a leap of joy at the Commander's words; death. It was coming for him tonight. All this pain and fear grief would come to an end, tonight. Elrond could almost feel relief washing over him.

"Not that I'm sure just how I'll get that blood from you yet," snorted Káno, kicking Elrond again to flip him over onto his back. A muffled cry escaped Elrond as yet again his body screamed for a stop to the harsh treatment. "Of course, I could make it swift and painless for you… But why on earth would I want to do that?" he laughed evilly, his top lip curling into a sneer. "I am not gifted with foresight, my little brat; but I foresee a very long, very painful and humiliating death waiting you tonight…"

Elrond shuddered at the malice in his words, and the thought of what lay in waiting for him; yet as Káno mentioned foresight, Elrond suddenly had a vision. A bright and starry sky over a battle field; swords swung and danced in the heat of the fight, the bodies of the slain and wounded littering the floor as they swam in their own pools of blood – and his brother was there – and his father too! But – wait – no! Elros was bleeding badly – his side was slashed and blood stained his cloak as the life giving substance flowed out of his body, onto the sorrow-stricken form of his father, who held his eldest's lifeless body in his arms, rocking him backwards and forwards as his wept. Yet as soon as the vision came, it was gone.

"Elros…" whispered Elrond, tears forming in his eyes as he registered what he had seen. He had never experience anything like that before, ever in his life, for being yet young the ancient bloodline in his elven heritage had not yet fully showed itself, and he didn't understand what he saw.

"What did you say?" snarled Káno, grabbing Elrond roughly by the neck and yanking him half up, but positioning his knee directly into the young half elf's chest. When Elrond did not reply, he pushed down hard, pulling a strangled cry from his slave. "Speak!"

"El – Elros," gasped Elrond, struggling to find the breath to speak with.

"Elros?" snorted the white haired man, throwing Elrond back to the floor as he rose. "Your brother is probably dead already, elf brat."

"No – no!" coughed Elrond, refusing to believe the words, yet drowning in the icy cold waves that swept over him at the statement. He began shaking and trembling, his mind and body in a state to weak to fight when he was hearing. He had simply been through too much to be able to throw something like off. He didn't have the strength any more.

"Oh yes, brat!" laughed Káno wickedly, seeing the intense pain this was causing his victim, "I sent another contingent down to that pathetic village of yours. All your people are dead and broken, their bodies scattered to the Orcs and Wargs!"

"You – you lie!" croaked Elrond, but his voice was small and as insignificant as the worker ants.

Káno swiftly backhanded him, reopening the cuts on his lips. "You will not address me like that!" he spat in the young man's face. "Your father and brother were slain without mercy on the foaming shores I am told, their limbs hewn from their bodies and tossed asunder – leaving your mother to face the raiders alone," Káno leant in dangerously, breathing down the side of Elrond's neck, "I hear she put up a good fight before they took her; but she was subdued. Such soft, soft skin she had…" Káno traced the line of Elrond's jaw with his finger. "She was truly a beauty…"

"NO!" screamed Elrond, thrashing wildly and kicking out with all the waning strength he had left; but the days of torture had taken their toll, and Káno merely straddled him, chuckling insanely as he held Elrond's wrists down. 

"Don't you see, Elrond? You're all alone now! There is nothing and no one who can ever save you!"

Elrond tried to pull away from Káno's grip but to no avail; his strength was sapped and the commander's hold was too great. A frustrated sob broke from his chest as he realised how helpless he was, and that Káno must surely speak the truth; for that was what he had seen, was it not? His brother dying, moments before his father must have been killed…

As Elrond surrendered and ceased to thrash, Káno stepped up from him, a victorious smirk over his face. Of course he had never even assembled a second contingent, let alone sent them out, but if it gave this brat one more thing to drive him to nothingness, then all the more fun it was!

"You see those?" said Káno suddenly, turning Elrond's head harshly with his foot in the direction he wanted him to look. On the brow of the hill beside them, seven carved statues of men were stood. Elrond gasped at the extreme skill with which they had been hewn; everything about them was perfect, as though they were real men, cast in rock to stand upon the hill top forever more. 

"You see them, elf brat?" whispered Káno, a strange glint in his eye. "They are those that went before you. Those who were sacrificed for the greater cause before you were even born."

Elrond recognized them vaguely as the statues he had seen as they had ridden into the hills, such a long, long time ago… No! This is what lay in store for him? But their faces – their faces were contorted images of pure terror, lacing every line on their skins. They were writhing in pain, their mouths open wide in a never ending, silent scream, as though they had suddenly been frozen in time. And as if through a dream, he began to hear those ghostly voices he remembered hearing in his sleep by the forest… 

_"Come to us…"_

No, he though numbly, I can't, I must stay…

_"No… Your time is almost come… You will join us Peredhil…"_

I can't… My brother and father, my mother…

_"No Peredhil… They are no more… Darkness is all that is now…"_

No, it isn't, it isn't…

_"Stop resisting… Embrace the gloom…"_

Unable to fight it any more, Elrond felt himself drifting into the eerie level between waking and unconsciousness, the ghostly voices echoing in his ears all the time.

Káno watched him curiously. He could not hear what Elrond could, but when the half elf passed out at his feet, a cruel smile broke across his lips. Tonight could not come soon enough… With a shrill whistle, he called two of the trollish men up the hill to him, and satisfied Elrond would not move, descended into the valley to seek out a certain red haired witch…

~*~*~*~

"The Silent Ones they are called," Nesial finished sadly. Eärendil nodded; he had dreaded as much, but now his fears had been confirmed. He sighed and passed a hand over his eyes, even as in the east the sun peeped up over the jagged mountains.

"My lord?" said a golden haired man beside him, "The men are making ready to depart. We need to go down to them."

"We will not get far without the horses," he murmured, glancing at Nesial, who shrugged.

"In my defence, I did send my own horse out after them."

"So now none of us have horses."

"No – Hythel will not fail me. She will bring your steeds back to you. This I promise." Nesial assured him as they began to leave the statues of the three stricken elves behind them on the hill top and take the path down to the camp.

"Well she has half an hour left at the most," replied Eärendil as they reached the base, but for now I suggest you gather all you can carry. My orders stand, and we march, horses or no as soon as the sun is fully risen." With that, the leader turned and hurried off to make his own final arrangements.

Nesial nodded and breathed heavily. So this was it. The last stage of the journey had finally come.

~

**Yes, the last stage indeed! But we shall see… Oh, I would just like to clarify before people start noticing this and questioning it –**

**1) ****Yes, in _Chapter Seven_ I did accidentally call Elros the youngest; in this fic, he's the oldest. Sorry about that!**

**2) ****Yes, in Chapter Three Nesial was lying through her teeth to Elrond.**

**Sorry, I was just reading it all through and noticed that could have caused some confusion!!!**

**Right, well, I reckon that's all – love ya!**

**Please review!**

**Loadsa love, Estel xxx**


	10. Sacrifice shall be his meaning

**Disclaimer: swats laywers zooming around on Fell Beasts Yadda, yadda…**

**A/N: Okay, well, frsitly, sorry that this has taken a while – meh, who am I kidding? I have one person to talk to! And that would be… Enny! Hi! You're my new best friend me thinks! Lol, well, how could you not be, after a great response like that?! I know! Doesn't Elrond rule so much?! Well, maybe its just you and me, but never mind Actually, you're quite lucky; I haven't update this for a while, and I got your review today! Talk about timing – but about the hanging… You might not like me after this chapter… hides behind fortified rock but if it makes you feel better, its not Elrond… **

**Enjoy!**

****

****

**Chapter Ten – Sacrifice shall be his meaning**

****

_Revail__ vyrn dan minuial   
u galad, u vin anor hen   
Cano an dregad   
u natha ored   
Gwanwen ion Eärendil_

_Dannen__ gwandur_

_--_

_Black wings against a pale morning_

_There is no more light, not in this sun_

_Call the retreat_

_There will be no warning_

_The son of the mariner is gone_

_The brother has fallen._

__

It was like the lull before the storm, thought Elros grimly, as he tightened his belt and sword scabbard.

That eerie, uneasy quiet before the clashing of two titanic forces… The sky was a queer orangey yellow in the light of the half risen sun, as the remnants of the concealing mist broke apart in wispy clouds, floating away on a bare breeze, shining like a dust storm. Beyond its choking veil, he could not see the rapidly lightening pale blue sky.

The men were growing strangely restless now; they had seen their Captain emerge from beyond the iridescent mists and were eager to leave this strange, foreboding place. Yet still he seemed to pause as if waiting, the red headed woman once more at his side, watching something intently far away. Her head was tilted to the left slightly and she squinted out, as thought straining to hear and see something that he couldn't, nor any of the others neither.

Eärendil glanced down at the slight built woman beside him.

"How much longer must we wait?" he inquired. According to her, it was this evening that the ritual would take place, and he did not intend to wait around on the off-chance that a miracle might happen.

"It will not be long now…" Nesial replied distractedly, staring off into what might have been space.

"The sun is almost risen –"

"_Patience is a virtue_…" she muttered in a sing-song voice, causing the mariner to roll his eyes and follow the path of her gaze. For a further few minutes, silence remained between them. Then –

"And here return your steeds," she smiled triumphantly, straightening up and giving him an I-told-you-so look. "Can you feel it? A roll of thunder pulsing through the earth."

Frowning, Eärendil dropped down to the floor and pressed his ear against the ground. Sure enough, the earth rumbled with the pounding of many iron shod hooves galloping towards them, growing nearer by the second.

Rising to his feet, he confirmed it with a simple nod.

"So by luck they come in the nick of time…" he murmured, to no one in particular.

"'Luck'?" echoed Nesial, turning to him with a furrowed brow. "No my good man, do not fool yourself so. It is not luck that has kept your son alive; it is not luck that has driven us to meet. Nothing at work in the world is the result of luck – that is merely the term it is coined with when people want to remain blind to the obvious. Believe rather that whether for good or for ill, everything has a meaning, a purpose," she said, the wisdom of the words far surpassing her youthful looks; "Everything that happens has a reason."

Eärendil stared at her for a moment, trying to fathom the ageless depths of her raven eyes; but the doors were shut and the curtains drawn. With a small smile, Nesial strode off to the camp's edge, where the path behind them half disappeared, now a hastily reforming dark track as the mists evaporated. Far off in the distance, high-pitched neighs could just be heard coming from the shadowy hills, and soon the sound of hooves was plain for all to hear.

All at once it seemed, a mass of dark grey shadows careered at break neck speeds around the base of the last hill, and the sound of heavy breathing and shrill whinnies filled the air. The faithful steeds burst through the last of the fog and with joyful knickers and snorts ran each to their master. Eärendil's own grey stallion came striding proudly up, his handsome neck arched as he lowered his head to his master, his knees hoisted high as he trotted. His chest was flecked with foam and his flanks drenched with sweat, but he looked neither worn nor weary.

"Mae govannen, mellon nîn," laughed Eärendil, taking the reins in one hand and stroking the silky coat with the other, "Well met indeed, my friend."

"Will you have a little faith in me now?" Nesial prompted wryly as Hythel stood beside her, her velvety muzzle resting in the hollow of the woman's neck.

"Any," nodded Eärendil, taking the light jest in all seriousness, "But perhaps now also you can have more faith in yourself."

Nesial started at the poignant statement and pointed look Eärendil gave her, before he began checking his horse for injuries. The Therethal turned to her own mare, her mouth gaping slightly in disbelief.

"Am I that easy to read, still?" she mused quietly to her loyal friend, running her hand absently through the knotted chestnut tresses of her mane. Hythel did not reply, but sighed heavily, drooping her eyes a little as she leant on her mistresses shoulder.

"You're right, this is definitely something I will have to work on," Nesial mumbled thoughtfully.

Hythel swished her tail.

"Why would I want them to see it?" exclaimed the woman defensively, "where would be the logic, the point?"

The strawberry roan shook her mane slightly, and nudged Nesial gently.

"You're right, as usual," sighed Nesial, defeated, "Of course you're right, you always are…"

"So you did bring back our horses after all," a voice said. Nesial closed her eyes and rested her head against Hythel's forelock, smiling into her.

"Hythel brought your horse back, Master Elros," she said simply, "I had not part in it at all."

"You underestimate yourself," replied Elros, allowing the flicker of a smile as he attached his bag to the saddle.

"And what, pray tell, would you know about underestimation exactly, Master Elros?" questioned Nesial, her eyes twinkling.

"Oh, nothing much," said Elros in an off-hand manner, "After all, I'm not even twenty yet…"

Nesial laughed gently. "You should have more respect for your elders," she scolded playfully as he mounted his bay horse, "Youths of today; honestly, I ask you…"

Rolling his eyes, Elros gave his horse a gentle nudge with his heels and sent him trotting towards his father, who was talking to Oslarn in front of the hastily regrouping men. The mist had now all but gone, bathing them all in a cold sunlight as the pale blue sky of spring rose domed above them.

As Elros drew nearer, Oslarn dipped his head in respect and hurried off to find any stragglers.

"How do you feel, Ada?" his son asked a little anxiously, knowing that although his father would deny it, he was very tired.

Eärendil smiled at his eldest. "I am no worse for wear, my son; though I should like to go my own bed again," he admitted quietly, "But the heat of battle will banish that I think."

Elros, who had been looking down the two roads that lay before them, now looked sharply at his father.

"You are sure there will be a battle?"

Eärendil gazed at his son sadly. "I can see no other way," he sighed, and the silhouette of grief flitted across his face; so much war… There was a silence between them as his men assembled in their ranks.

"Elros," Eärendil said suddenly, his tone lowered for his son's ears only, "If the battle should go ill –"

"It will not father," Elros assured him, but Eärendil waved a hand for quiet.

"If the battle should go ill," he repeated, "Promise me Elros, swear to me that if I order you to, you will leave."

"Ada!" exclaimed Elros shocked, so that several of the riders swiveled around to see where the noise was coming from. Eying them, Eärendil's horse went forward a few paces to give his rider some privacy.

"Swear to me Elros!" whispered the mariner fiercely, gripping his son's arm and looking deep into his eyes. "Swear that you will do as I ask. Leave the battle and head for the forest. Wait there for a while if you must, but you will return home."

"Ada," despaired Elros, his eyes pleading, "I could not abandon you, like a coward crawling from a fight!"

"If you follow my orders, you will be no coward," breathed Eärendil adamantly. "My son, I cannot lose all of my family – And your mother Elros… It would break her heart. And the people will look to you to lead them. They will need you Elros. I cannot afford to let you throw your life away."

The elder twin stared hard at his father, debating whether or not to argue. Never in his life had he gone directly against the wish of either of his parents, and he honestly didn't want to start – but this? This request asked much of him. Could he really trust himself, to keep any promise that he had if it came to it?

_No_, a strong defiant voice in his mind answered. _No, he could never leave_. His brother, half of his soul was a mere breath away; he was not about to let him go so easily – and neither would he abandon his father. Either all of them left, or none of them did. It was as simple as that.

"Elros?" pressured Eärendil, needing an answer as the men sat patiently waiting on their horses. Nesial sat on Hythel just in front of them.

"Very well Ada," Elros agreed reluctantly; he hated not being honest with him, but he hated the thought of cowardice even more. There was nothing he could do about that though; that's just the way things were.

"Thank you," said his father, in so grateful a tone that it sounded as though relief had been washed over him, and Elros felt a pang of guilt. But it might never even come to it, he convinced himself, don't worry about it yet.

Nesial, having noticed that whatever conversation father and son had been having was over, nudged Hythel over to them.

"Ready gentlemen?" she asked, apprehension hounding her words like scent dogs.

"Lead the way," answered the Captain and Mariner plainly, and with a swish of tails, the rescue party disappeared down the right hand road, leading into the heart of the hills.

"_WHERE IS SHE_?!" bellowed Káno in a horrific rage, bodily throwing one of his men into a hut. The thug hit the wall with a sickening crack and slid to the floor, unmoving, his neck at an odd angle. He did not rise again.

"I – I don't know m – my Lord," stammered another, eying his fallen comrade with terror.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, _YOU DON'T KNOW_?!" roared the commander. His emerald green eyes were huge and bulging, his face an angry red, the veins in his neck throbbing madly in frustration. Every part of him was quivering as though on fire; he'd left them for an hour, and hour! And they had managed to lose her!

"When was the last time any of your worthless, brainless idiots saw her?" he snarled, shooting deadly glances at the men who had backed off as far as they dared without literally running for cover.

"My Lord – I – I saw her l – leave –"

"LEAVE? When?!" he demanded furiously, rounding on the ridiculously small voice coming from a huge man.

"P – please my L – Lord," he stuttered, "It was late last night – she took er horse – I – I thought nothing of it –"

"What is your name, imbecile?" Káno drawled, cutting in carelessly.

"Garuth, my lord –"

"Garuth – you were on duty by the gates last night, were you not? ANSWER ME!" he shouted when Garuth stared at him petrified.

"Y – yes, my Lord."

"And is it not the duty of the guard warden to report any and all comings and goings through those gates?!" bellowed the white-haired man, his darkly handsome features marred by fury and rage, his voice rising with every word.

"Y – yes, my Lord –"

"And yet you did not see fit to stop her, or report her departure at once?! DO YOU HAVE DUNG FOR BRAINS, OR NONE AT ALL, WORM?!" Káno hollered,  as the man before him threw himself at his master's feet, shaking pitifully.

"My Lord, forgive me! She said you had given her permission to come and go as she pleased! Please, my Lord, please, have mercy, have mercy!"

"Mercy?" sneered Káno, his lip curling, "You disobey direct orders and you expect me to show you mercy?!"

Suddenly, the man began screaming in agony; his whole body twisted and shuddering against the dusty earth, great jerking jolts ripping through his as he writher in pure pain. Káno raised his hand, and the man began to scream even louder if that was possible, and sickeningly, his eyes looked as though they had tripled in size and would simply pop out of his head. A sadistic smile crept over the Commander's face as the pathetically shrieking figure began to choke and gasp for breath. All at once, Káno snapped his long fingers, and with a final, spine-chilling scream, the man burst into a great ball of flame, his whole body engulfed by the flickering and hungry orange fire. For a few moments, all present saw his skin blackening on his bones, cracking and melting as he died. Then within a matter of seconds, all the was left of the beefy, troll like man was a pile of dusty ashes, and the lingering smell of scorched flesh.

In the aftermath, not a soul spoke. The man's dying cry echoed hideously in the hills about them, as the others stared in shock and horror at the grey powder that mere seconds ago had been their comrade.

Káno cricked his neck to the side and shook his head in disgust. "Right," he said, passing a hand over his eyes in disdain and taking a deep breath, "All of you will search this camp from top to bottom, high and low, leave nothing unturned for any trace of the wench." he ordered, as if nothing disturbing had just happened. In fact, his voice was eerily calm and collected. "You," he pointed at a bald man with a large chunk missing form his ear, "Take four scouts out and search the hills for her. None of you come back without any evidence, or you will all meet the same, sticky end – do you understand me?" he asked, almost lazily. The men nodded hastily and murmured in agreement.

"Well get on with it then!" Káno snapped, snorting as they jumped and ran. Pathetic…

It was now midday, and as Lakag sat astride his thick set and hairy horse, he frowned, muttering to himself. Three hours now he had been sitting here – three hours! His backside was numb from lack of movement and his stomach was grumbling loudly, reminding him he had missed breakfast. And still, nothing of the stupid red-haired witch had been found! Top to bottom, high and low they had searched, leaving nothing unturned in the immediate hills, but not even a whisper was to be heard of her whereabouts. Oh, but slow though Lakag was, he wasn't a complete fool; he knew his Master made good on his threats, and had no intention whatsoever of returning to Káno empty handed. He'd sit here all bloody week if that's what it took!

Beneath him his horse, its joints creaking, yawned and shifted its weight over on its back legs.

"Yer great lazy beast…" Lakag muttered agitatedly.

The horse dropped its eyelids and lowered its head a little as though in contempt.

"I don't think so!" snorted Lakag, yanking hard on the reins. With a surprised snort, the horses head shot up, its ears flickering back.

"Yer'll not sleep on my watch!" he mumbled nastily.

The horse snorted again, and probably would have made its feelings at being disturbed quite clear if it had not suddenly been distracted by a sound in the distance.

"Yer stupid brute," snarled Lakag, "What's yer problem now anyway, 'ey?"

The cob pricked its ears towards the source of the noise. Noticing the change, Lakag paused to listen too. At first he could not detect anything, and was about to wallop the animal when he caught the very faintest sound; a deep low rumbling. Frowning, he listened harder; thunder. That was what it sounded like – coming from the west…

Spurring the horse sharply up the hill to his left, he slowed down and dismounted before her reached the top and crouching low, continued on foot to the brow. Shielding himself behind the statue of a screaming woman (which was quite hard, considering his size), Lakag looked out curiously but cautiously down into the valleys and hills disappearing into the west in a grey haze. Very quickly he was able to identify the source of the sound; a great armed host of riders were weaving their way through the winding paths in the hills. Squinting, Lakag had to rub his eyes to believe what he was seeing – and they were still far enough away that he could easily be mistaken – but he could have sworn it was true – the rider leading the host was red-haired, riding upon a rare roan horse…

With a sudden gasp, he realised in hi sown slow mind who it was. As quickly as he could, he lumbered back to his horse and threw himself up with some difficulty, making the steed turn to take a nip at his hefty bulk.

"Argh, get on with yer!" he commanded gruffly, and with a deft kick to the barrel-tummy sides, the horse set off at a speedy gallop back towards camp. He had to get this news to Káno - it wasn't so much the thought of what the riders might do to him, but what the Commander would when he discovered he had found out too late… Suppressing a shudder, he sped on without a glance back.

Hythel pulled sharply up at the base of a silver green hill, her nostrils flared as she stared at some point in the distance. Confused, Nesial tried to follow her gaze but could not figure out what had caused the mare to stop.

"What is it, my friend?" she asked worriedly. Hythel snorted and tossed her mane.

"Why have we stopped?" questioned Eärendil shortly, pulling up beside her. The sound of the horse's heavy breathing filled the air, masking her words from all but the mariner and his son.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully, shaking her head, "There must be something over there she doesn't like the look of." She waved a hand in the general direction Hythel was staring to intently at.

Squinting his elven laced eyes, Eärendil peered at he distance hill tops; but apart from scattered statues, nothing seemed to be there.

"I can see nothing," he told her quietly, "Should we continue?"

Nesial paused for a moment.

"Yes – yes, come on. Not far now…" Once again, the host set off. Convincing her self that it had been nothing, Nesial drove the nagging worry from her mind; Elros on the other hand, whose eyes were far superior to any there present, could not do that so easily. Though he had said nothing because he couldn't be sure, he could have sworn he saw a dark bulky disappearing behind the crown of a hill.

Twilight. No fires were lit this time – they couldn't risk it. They were so close to the camp that a drunken fool would hardly even have considered it. Still, the men did not sit huddled in small groups, blankets wrapped around their shoulders to fend off the icy air; each man stood straining his ears for the call, their fingers sub-consciously tapping on their sword hilts. Elros was stood likewise by his father; it was as though the heightened senses in some aspects had deadened others, for he could not feel the chill on his skin as he would normally have done. They stood waiting in restrained patience now for word to come back from the scouts that had been sent down to the picketed walls of the settlement. Once the signal came back, the plan was to send a small group of decoy riders right down to the very gates of the camp. From Nesial's description of the place, there was no way they would be able to break down the walls and force entry; no, their best shot was to lure their enemy out towards them. And so now, they waited.

Eärendil had considered sending Nesial back down to Káno, in case suspicions had been raised about her absence; but Nesial had frowned at the suggestion, and a shadow had crossed her heart. She couldn't explain it, but she got the dark feeling that walking back into that camp right now was not such a good idea.

The sky was clear and cloudless; the first timid stars were peaking out their fragile glimmers, hung like jewels in the dusty lavender half light. Yet in the far west, the sun was still a fiery orange orb, hanging low in the sky, as though reluctant to leave the world to total darkness, anxious to see the outcome of the battle that would belong to the night.

Beneath Eärendil's still and calm charade, a stubborn angry debate raged. Part of him, the collected, warrior-wise part, knew he had to wait for the signal, or they would all die, his sons included. Yet the father in him… The father in him was almost being torn apart at having to linger on the boundaries of the place that held his weakened, defenceless younger son, and wanted nothing more than to run heedless into danger, if only to hold him in his arms again. Yet though the current was strong, it was not strong enough, and the turbulent waters did not disturb the patiently flowing waters of the surface.

Nesial still could not shake the ominous feeling that something was going to go wrong. Fair enough, her people had never been the greatest of Seers, granted, but she could tell what the world was telling her – and she wasn't sure she liked it. The messages were unclear, cryptic, but they all seemed to be gestures of warning; against what, she really couldn't tell, and that was what put her on edge. She peered at the hill that stood baring the way before them, as if hoping to pierce it with a strong enough gaze, and see into the heart of the camp. Yet the looming giant remained silent and watchful, waiting in anticipation as the defiant sun light it up with sparks of red and gold shot with silver streaks.

All of a sudden, three desperate and shrieking cries came from beyond the hill, causing every person, alert though they were, to jump and foot in the air and spin. The three cries echoed around the hills for miles, dragging on and on into the distance. Elros glanced at his father uncertainly; What could this mean? he silently asked, but his father was looking worriedly in the direction of the camp.

"Oslarn," he said suddenly, so that his captain tore his eyes away from where to screams had come. "How many scouts did we send out there again?"

"Four m'lord," answered Oslarn quietly, "Four of the younger lads – smaller and quieter than the older men. We didn't want –"

But what exactly Oslarn didn't want, they never found out, for at that moment a solitary figure appeared on the hilltop, shouting and waving his arms desperately.

"What is he saying?!" demanded Eärendil, stepping forward anxiously.

"I don't –"

"Ada!" despaired Elros, who had caught the distressed words of the young man only a year or two older than he, "Ada, they know!"

"What?" murmured Eärendil distractedly, turning to his Captain. Yet just what became suddenly and horribly clear; the last scouts warning what shut off all at once, as a crude, black shafted arrow flew swift and deadly through the air, embedding itself in his throat. His eyes, open wide with shock, seemed to glow brightly in the gathering gloom, as he slumped down onto his knees, all the breath of life gone from his lungs. Massive dark shadows mounted the hilltop beside him, bearing spiked clubs and long, notched swords; within a matter of second, the boy lay in pieces on the ground.

"EÄRENDIL, ITS KÁNO!" screamed Nesial, realizing too late exactly what it was the world around had been trying to hard to tell her.

But the Lord was one step in front of her…

"FORM LINES! DRAW YOUR WEAPONS! ARCHERS TO THE FRONT, _NOW_!" he ordered powerfully, his commanding voice carrying even over the din of the troll like men, swarming like ants over the hill down towards them.

The men of the silver shores did not waste precious time on shock; honed into their battle skills, they ran at once, forming orderly lines, the swordsmen on their flanks and behind the archers in the centre, who knelt down and notched arrows to the string, pulling the bows taut.

"FIRE!" shouted Eärendil, Elros by his side as he joined the forces in their right flank. A hail of arrows, fletched with the distinctive white feather of the gull soared gracefully through the air, even as they had once done above the glittering sea, each flaring vibrant hues in the dying sun. They sailed true to their masters, sinking themselves deep in the bodies of the lumbering men, who appeared to be wearing no armour; an advantage the archers took no time at all to pick up on.

"Oslarn, take your men, get on the horses, form a cavalry to break their ranks!" the mariner hastily ordered his second in command, who nodded without question and hurried to the faithfully waiting steeds. Shower after shower of white shafted arrows brought down the front line of the charging enemy, but it was not enough to stop them.

"Elros, I want to you stay with me," muttered Eärendil, his drawn sword glinting in the faint light of the stars, "But remember what I told you."

"I remember Ada," swallowed Elros, his sword suddenly oh so very heavy in his arms. Practicing in a field had been one thing; but battle? That was another altogether… It had always seemed to be a joke with Elrond – yet that one thought steeled his heart. Elrond. That was why they were here, why _he_ was here. And this time, he would not fail.

The men were almost upon them now. With a terrible cry, they thrust themselves aimlessly with no intention but destruction onto the waiting swords of the soldiers, even as the archers gave way before them, falling back behind the flanks to shoot from safer positions. Like a tidal wave of death, they flooded the defenders, hacking, slashing, breaking, lunging, none of it with any clear purpose; Eärendil's men however, fought with determined, skillful strokes, each movement kept in check and calculated. Yet although better warriors they might be, it became apparent that they could not hold such overwhelming tides for long; no matter how many they felled, more seemed to come and take their place. Soon, Elros could only catch glimpses of his father, let alone stand by his side, and struggled enough for his own life. He began to tune out everything that did not matter, and became solely bent on standing his ground. The earth was quickly littered with heaps of bodies, nearly all of them the enemy; but still, more rained down upon them in a never ending supply!

"Come on, Oslarn," muttered Eärendil, as he thrust his singing sword into the bulging gut of a course, black haired man. He snarled at him, before Eärendil kicked him away to the ground, and sliced cleanly through his neck in one swift stroke.

Even as he wished so, there came the thunder of hooves; a battle cry went up among the soldiers, and suddenly Eärendil saw Oslarn leading the charge, cleaving a straight path towards them, then sweeping past, allowing the mariner a few seconds breather. A soft warm muzzle nudged impatiently at his back, and turning he saw his faithful friend, urging him to hurry. With a wry grin, he leapt upon his back and took the slight reprieve as a chance to find Elros.

The mariner's son too had found his horse, and having swung himself aboard while the beast still moved, he cleared his path now towards the main host of the cavalry, where many of the warriors were mounting their steeds and preparing for a second charge.

"Oslarn, where is my father?" he called to the Captain, who could not answer, but swung his arm out to the right.

As it was, his father was already proceeding towards him, and he met him half way.

"Are you hurt?" asked Eärendil at once, glancing his son over earnestly.

"I'm fine father –"

"Listen to me; I want you to stay back here with Oslarn. I am leading a host into the heart of their camp to find your brother."

"No!" Elros half-shouted, distraught at being left behind.

"Do not argue with me!" Eärendil snapped, "I have not got the time to fight with you now, Elros, there is more at stake! You gave me your word, now stay true to it!"

Without another word, Eärendil's host swiftly began forming themselves, and with another cry and the shrill neighs of the horses, the second charge headed straight for the hill, trampling the men that lay before them, the archers still firing their last arrows from the flanks.

Elros probably spent less than a split second decided what he was to do; with a sharp kick to his horse, he galloped after his father, tagging along at the back of the group. They gained the hilltop to meet the last of the camp's resistance heading towards them. Eärendil's horse reared fiercely, his master holding his sword high, rallying his men, before plunging down the valley again, the enemy falling before them like reeds in a swift wind. Elros lunged and thrust at those who passed him, his doubts and fears left far behind in the shadowy vale. All that mattered now was him, his sword and the enemy. His bay horse kept his sure footing, careful not to give his master away by keeping at the back.

"Eärendil! OVER THERE!" a woman's voice screamed from somewhere near, "To your left Eärendil, on the hill top!"

Elros' horse seemed almost to obey his thoughts rather than his hands, and swung immediately to the left, gathering speed as its hooves flew like thunder over the ground, heading for the hill where he could clearly see two figures surrounded by a group of men; one, with white blonde hair; the other, half-dragged, half carried by its side.

"Elrond!" he cried, fifteen years of training in caution thrown to the wind as he bolted for his brother, charging straight on into the ranks of men. Yet these, it seemed, were more ordered than the others; they held their ground, holding Elros back as he watched helplessly as his semi-conscious brother was pulled further from his grasp.

"Elrond, no!" he cried, tears almost stinging his eyes in frustration. He was so close, so close!

"Elros, go back!" a familiar voice boomed, and all at once his father's host was all about him, and the wall of men that had been able to fend off one horseman alone so easily now fell apart beneath the strengthened attack. Elros caught the merest glimpse of his father flat out galloping for Káno before being pulled back into the battle at hand. Desperately, he tried to regain his lost sense of control, but the men, slow though they were, saw how distracted he was, and a felt a burning, tearing sensation in his leg. Looking down, he saw the leering grin of a hefty thuggish man, whose sword now was embedded deep in his thigh. Elros took a few seconds to register the pain, before the sight of the sneering mouth made his blood boil, and he roared in defiance, lopping the toll's head off. Lakag fell to the ground by his fallen comrades.

 "Retreat!" a terrified voice called suddenly, "Fall back to the hills!" Elros half grinned, his pain number mind now noticing that it was not the course, vile voice of his enemy speaking, but the clear sounding call of the herald. "Fall back!"

He had a fleeting shot of his father galloping madly back past him, a figure held tightly to his chest, before he felt strong hands grip his wounded leg and yank him from the saddle. Surprised, Elros did not even have time to cry out as he fell gracelessly to the ground, landing hard on the gaping slash. His horse screamed in terror, and danced around, uncertain of where his master had gone or how to get him back, before he too was blocked from view by a sea of tossing monsters. Elros saw a man lean over him, tall and white haired, though his face was marred with dripping cuts and his eyes black, before a cloth was shoved harshly over his nose and mouth. A sickly sweet smell was the last thing he could remember, before the world span out of focus and the colours blurred. Unable to move, he slumped back against his captor, before a heavy blow to the base of his skull made golden stars dance in front of his eyes and darkness claimed the light, and he knew no more.

****

**Oh dear. Yes, what exactly has just happened?! All very confusing… I'm going to ****apologise now for any typos, I'm so bad when it comes to them, and I literally just wrote this! So yeah… **

**Please review!**

**Loadsa love, Estel xxx**


	11. By Your Blood

**Disclaimer: Yes, Tolkien, that would be me… I'm also ****Orlando**** Bloom's divorced wife and I own Shadowfax. In case you were wondering. **

**A/N: grovels for forgiveness I am so sorry I have taken so long to get around to this! And I'm even more sorry that what you're receiving isn't anywhere near my usual standard. sigh With encouragement ( from Enny!) I did get it done, but I feel it's a bit rushed… Also, not a lot really happens, but there is a revelation and a 'cliffie' of sorts, so you don't get off too bad I suppose! But what can I say, at least I apologized in advance!**

**Reviewer Replies**

**El-nin – I don't know what to say… Firstly, thank you for taking such a long time to give me such a review! Its amazing! Must have broken a record that one I'm thrilled you liked the races, they were always a little hazy in my mind but they made sense, so putting them into words was… interesting shall we say! As for writing for reviews… Well that's very hard to do with Simarillion fics I find. Besides, this is the one story out of all of mine that I really enjoy writing, and since I plan to do a sequel (yes, you're not getting off that easy!) it's like a push to keep me going. Then the few reviews I do get are encouraging, so it's not all bad. I know, I hate short chapters, they really wind me up. As soon as you get to a good bit, its stops… Grrr… Having said that of course, this is quite a short chapter… Whoops! Ah, suspense! The bane of our existence! I think the way I'm actually able to do that is because I tackle each chapter as an individual, without thinking of the fic as a whole. Well, that's my theory Ahh, how can I resist the Bambi eyes!!! Argh, typos… Also the bane of my existence! I'm going to bet money you find at LEAST three in this chapter. I know how annoying it is to read, so I'm sorry! But you're right, I tend to change my mind half way through a word, lol… Commas. I blame it on a , nervous , twitch. There it , is again! Lol, thanks for that, I'll keep an eye on them in future. AND YES! WOOP WOOP FOR ELROND! Definitely not enough Elrond around if you ask me Thank you for your time, and I hope you enjoy this chapter too!**

**Enny**** – (a.k.a, THE MOST PERSUASIVE PERSON ON THE PLANET!)**** Lol! Thank you for all of your pushing, you kept forcing me to do it! Well, I've already apologized for the quality, so we won't go there… lol, yes, I love Harry Potter! And Lucius Malfoy kicks ass! I might have molded him on Malfor at the beginning… But I think ****Kano**** is more bloodthirsty and, well, sick than Malfoy. Its sort of Malfoy but a few degrees nastier. Well I hope you enjoy this chapter too then!**

**Mellaithwen**** – Amy! M'dear! Lol, I didn't think you were reading it at all! Well, tis very nice to see you here my love, and I'm flattered that you're enjoying it… Oh course by the time you read this you'll be back from Aus n M.E… So you better damn review is all I'm saying! Lol! I can just imagine Earendil reacting like that…**

**Eärendil: So what you're saying is, they have my _other_ son…**

**Estel: Yeessss m'dear. Elros has been captured.**

**Eärendil: But he went to safety when I told him to!**

**Estel: And I'm the Elven Queen of Mirkwood…**

**Eärendil; So You rescued one of my sons, to swap hi with the other?**

**Estel: I like to keep you on your toes!**

**Earendil****: Riiiiigh… Does that mean I have to leave my bed?**

**Estel: Man I'm glad you're not my father…**

**Lol! Enjoy this chapter when you get round to it!**

**Dark Siaph: Well, I hope you enjoyed your reading spree! You certainly got through a lot, I'll give you that! I'm glad you're enjoying it, hope you enjoy this chapter too.**

**Enny****: Well hello again! Fancy seeing you here… And what would you be wanting?**

**Enny****: Crikey! You just keep coming back don't ya? Ah well, I suppose I'll have to give you a chapter now **

**Hope ya'll enjoy it!**

****

**Chapter Eleven – By Your Blood**

****

_"Do not fear the dark, my love,_

_For it can do you no harm;_

_Fear rather what it holds, my love,_

_Within its raven palm."___

****

A flaring pain in his head thrust him from the uneasy and dim twilight he was in, followed by a foul and intoxicating stench filling his senses. Elros jerked awake and struggled away from the cloth clamped tightly over his nose and mouth, only to find that he was bound to a thick and rough stone anyway. A harsh cackle sounded behind him, and he swung his leg around to have his ankle collide with deep flabby flesh. A grunt of pain and anger was chased by a hefty whack around the head, making his vision swim.

"Stop sporting with him and get on with it!" an impatient voice snapped.

"Yes m'lord," came the reluctant gruff reply, and Elros was hauled to his feet, his arms burning as they were dragged up the course stone.

"Get back to the others!" the voice snapped again, and with one loathsome glance at the half elven twin, the thug plodded away to join the ring of men that Elros could now see were surrounding him. Beyond them, he could see the fires from the camp rising into the air, lighting the night with bright orange flares where they had gotten out of control. He had no idea where his father and brother and men were, for they were no where to be seen.

"So," the voice snarled, suddenly much closer to Elros' ear so that he had to resist the urge to flinch back, "You think you can just storm in here with your little knights, do you?" It was dripping with hatred, a manic tone more than a little hinted at. "You think you can just ruin what hundreds of years of preparation has conceived, and destroy my plans?! _Well you are sadly mistaken!_"

A sharp quick pain entered Elros' side between his armour plates, forcing him to release a groan of pain. Whoever was behind him twisted the dagger painfully, but was careful not to damage any vital organs; he wanted vengeance, and he wanted it slow and painful.

"What do you want from me?" Elros ground out through a jaw clenched tightly against the pain.

"What I want…" the voice hissed venomously in his ear as a lock of white blonde hair fell onto his shoulder; "What I want is your blood, elf brat."

Elros couldn't help it, though he detested the weakness; he shuddered. The sickening blood lust in that voice made his stomach churn horribly.

With a searing lurch, the dagger was pulled quickly from his side, leaving him gasping as golden stars danced in his vision. Between the flashing lights, he saw a tall figure walk around into his sight. His eyes cleared to show a man, who had perhaps once been lordly; his face could have been noble and handsome had it not been mutilated into a sneer of hatred, the glinting serpent like eyes almost glowing in dreadful excitement.

"You thought you could stop me, by taking your brother, elf brat?" spat Káno, slapping Elros hard across the face. "You actually thought you could prevent the inevitable? You have no power here l_ittle boy_, and no comprehension of the forces at work. You would have done better to cower in your mud hut dwellings, with your coward of a father, and whore of a mother"-

"Don't you dare speak about my parents like that!" shouted Elros hotly, his bloody boiling even as it stained the side of his clothes, making them sticky and cling to him.; another backhanded slap.

****

"You will speak only when asked to!" commanded Káno. "Your failed attempt has not stopped me, and neither will your sharp tongue! Be polite, and perhaps I shall make it quick for you… Then again; perhaps I shall not."

Elros bit his tongue hard and refused to acknowledge the taunt, merely glaring loathsomely at him though the wound at his side was leaching his strength.

"Your brother may have escaped me brat, but you will not. And tonight, by your blood, I shall be free!"

"You can't," Elros blurted out, "You need his blood, and you don't have it. You're not getting free from anything."

Swift and thunderous fists to the stomach made him dizzy and nauseas and try to bend double, though his bound hands prevented it. 

"Be silent!" hissed Káno. "Do not boast so low an intelligence! You are a fool, if you think I do not know that already! But had you not begun to wonder why it was you that I captured when your brother was taken? Is your wit even now so slow as to not realise the implication of your relation?"

"Don't play with me," he growled, suddenly feeling much braver than he was as a wave of light-headedness swept through him.

"Oh, so it is a proper warrior now! With proper retorts and _honour_, I daresay. Can you not figure it out, Oh Son of the Great Eärendil? _You are his twin_ – you are one and the same."

Elros was half way through a retort when he froze as this information sunk in… His brother's blood; his blood… It didn't matter which; either would do. His heart plummeted deep into his stomach. He would die if he had to, afraid as he was – but in doing so would mean the freedom and redemption of this _creature_, and there was nothing he could do to stop him.

A sardonic yet victorious laugh rang through the air as Káno watched understanding dawn on his captive's face.

"You see?" he whispered insanely. "It doesn't matter any more! Nothing you have done matters, within the hour I will be restored to my former glory – and you, Elros, shall be no more than an empty carcass on the floor and a swiftly forgotten memory. It is over, brat. You have lost."

"Actually Káno," a woman's voice perked up unexpectedly, "I think you'll find it ain't over until it's actually over."

Káno took a deep breath and closed his eyes in frustration. "Nesial," he drawled, turning to face the slender built woman as she stood behind him, leaning to one side, hands placed defiantly on her hips. "So glad you could join us."

"You know me, Káno", she shrugged, "Wouldn't miss this show for the world."

"Indeed; am I to take it you like shows then? You certainly seem to have put a good one on for his lot," Káno asked, jerked this thumb towards Elros. Almost unperceivably, Nesial's coal dark eyes flitted to the young elf and back again, but no one other than the elf noticed.

"What can I say? I am the greatest actress in all of Middle Earth."

"You flatter yourself," he snorted in contempt, "But you need not do so any more. You will have to spill the first blood Nesial; don't put on too much of a show for that deed at least."

Nesial quirked an eyebrow at him quizzically. "I shall make no promises, my Lord. Besides – it would seem that you have begun to sport with him already…" She stared pointedly at the slowly growing dark stain on Elros' side. "Is that not a break from tradition?"

"Do not scorn me with pathetic traditions, witch," he snarled. "My business with him is my own."

"Ah, of course; you have such a great grudge to bear against a seventeen year old lad…"

"You will watch your tongue!"

"And you cannot make me!"

Nesial's stance became dominant now and once again, a battle raged in the air before her for power; yet this time it seemed that her own strength was greatly renewed, but the pair were evenly matched. Elros could almost see a ball of light being forced back and forth between them, each pushing it with sheer strength of will and the want to dominate. It hung suspended in the air between them, unsure of where to go, of whom to bestow the dominance on…

"You begin to bore me witch," drawled Káno finally, though he was the first to turn away. Nesial visibly relaxed, resuming her over-confident position once more.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, my Lord," she answered, inconspicuously watching his every movement.

Káno glanced warningly at her, then at the sky. Rising dirty clouds of dark grey littered his vision like careering columns of a collapsing castle, but in the far, far west, the very last dregs of day had disappeared, and the inky indigo sky was strewn with feeble silver stars. Although no mortal could have seen any sign there written, Káno read in them an ancient script and a cold sneer crept across his face as the news spoke in his favour.

"You need not be sorry any more," he grinned, turning back to her. "It is time."

Eärendil thundered up past his men, his stallion's legs merely a blur of grey as he flew away from the battle and over the brow of the hill, out into the safety beyond. He was vaguely aware of his guard slowly falling back from him where their horses could not keep up, but it didn't mean much; all he knew was the precious bundle in his arms, and the way he should be heading. That was all that mattered, so that was all he needed to know.

Down into the shallow valley he flew, past he heaps of dead bodies of the battle, some his own men and some the enemy, though in death's great shadow, they were all one and the same; for how could death, enshrouded in darkness, ever see the difference between the good and the evil? They were all dead now, all subjected to the same bloody fate.

He didn't know how far he had gone; he didn't even know where about in these godforsaken hills he was, but the smells and sounds of battle were far away from him now, and only a distant dark cloudy pillar rising behind him showed how far they had come. Slowly, Eärendil drew his mighty horse to a gentle canter and trot, and came to walk beneath the bulk of a silver-green hill in the moonlight. With a soft murmur, the stallion turned up the hill to where several statues had fallen to the floor in the elements, and where they provided a safe resting place for his son.

A soft sigh came from the horse as he finally halted on the hill top and his master dismounted, and he looked out over the way they had come to where his comrades and friends still fell back from the battle, his dark eyes lit with small orange flames. He shook his mane but did not move.

Eärendil meanwhile had laid Elrond out on the floor, still wrapped tightly in the thick blankets he had brought with him. The young half elf shivered though the night should not have been cold enough to affect him, and muttered incoherently in a state of delirium. Gently, Eärendil moved back the stray dark hairs on his face, clearing his vision.

"Elrond," he whispered, "Elrond my son; it's me, its Ada…"

Elrond frowned and try to move away from him, his murmurings slightly louder and more despairing.

"Sshhh," the Mariner soothed, stroking Elrond's hair gently, "Sshhh ion nin, its alright, you're safe now, no one will hurt you… Wake up little one…"

The soothing tones seemed to awake in Elrond a flicker of memory, though it fluttered from his grasp when he tried to see it; it was warm and kind and loving though, and he moved towards the source of the balmy sound.

Eärendil released the breath he didn't know he had been holding as Elrond stopped moving away and lay quite still in his arms, though the mutterings didn't stop and Eärendil couldn't catch what he was saying.

"Elrond?" he asked quietly, "Elrond, can you hear me? It's Ada, little one; you remember me…"

"A – Ada?" his raspy voice tried, but the voice was strained and dry. "Is – where…"

"Shh, shh my son," Eärendil breathed, unable to speak any more as his throat tightened and his vision became blurry with tears. He buried his face in his son's hair, wetting it with the silver rivulets as he breathed Elrond in, relishing holding him again; it was over; he was safe, he was safe…

For a while, Elrond lay at peace in his father's arms. He did not question why or how; it didn't mattered – all that mattered was that his Ada had saved him, and now they would all go home to Nana, and all be safe again… And he and Elros would practice their skills as they had always done, he remembered; for now there was a shining light in his darkness, and it pierced the hopeless shadows of his mind and let golden rays fall on all of his memories of the sea and his mother and his father and –

"Ada," he asked hoarsely, "Where is Elros?"

Eärendil rose out of his son's hair, frowning slightly.

"He is safe ion nin, don't worry –"

"I had a dream Ada…" whispered Elrond, because it was easier on his parched throat. "I had a dream… and the lord took him… And then we rode away… It was such a strange dream. Where is he Ada?"

Eärendil continues to frown at his son. Truth be told, he didn't actually known where Elros was; he presumed that he had obeyed his order and left the battle, but that child had such a stubborn will on him…

"I'm sure he's fine, my son," he smiled for Elrond's sake, "He is"-

But the pounding off hoof beats could suddenly be heard; they were uneven and unsteady, as though the horse were badly lame, and they grew louder each second. Eärendil's stallion pricked his ears and watched at the direction from which the sound carried intently. A shrill neigh broke the silent air, and before his master could stop him, the great animal has sped down the hill to greet the new comer.

"Ada"- Elrond tried feebly to rise.

"Hush, my son," Eärendil said quietly, a gentle hand upon Elrond's chest more that adequate to keep him weakened child down. He watched as the smoky grey stallion came down on to the flat path and stood waiting, everything about him tensed and alert. Eärendil held his breath…

…As around the corner came a worn bay horse, the whites of his eyes clearly showing, the saddle on his back pulled to the side and his reins tangled around his legs. He was limping badly, favouring his left foreleg over the right but he would not stop. When he saw the stallion waiting for him, he seemed to almost fall to the ground in relief, and only his momentum kept him going. Eärendil's stallion recognized him at once and rushed to his side and the injured and wasted steed stumbled to the ground, breathing heavily. Even in his broken state, Elrond knew that horse; he had seen him every day for years, and would have known had he been blind.

"Ada – its Elros' horse! He's in danger!"

****

**You know what, don't ask me how Elrond knows this. They are twins. That is my excuse!**

**Well, what do ya'll think then m'dears? I would like to state now that talking to myself doesn't bother me at all! Lol!**

**Loadsa love, Estel xxx**


	12. The End of All Things

**DISCLAIMER: All rights to the Tolkien Estate I would suppose; except Nesial and Káno, I might keep them a while longer!**

**A/N: Well, I have no idea what has come over me lately but I seem to be in some sort of crazy fic-finishing mood! I fully appreciate the shameful wait for this, but I hope it will be at least partly worth it. This is for Enny, if you are still out there, for always being so enthusiastic about this story. Thank you! …And of course, enjoy.**

**Chapter Twelve – The End of All Things/ Epilogue**

"The lot of you," Káno ordered, his eyes aflame with a fey, green light, "Clear this mess up, I want these carcasses out of here. _Now_!" he thundered, when the troll-like men hesitated for a fraction of a second.

"And you, wench," he said, rounding on Nesial; "Make up that damned concoction and bloody do it quickly! I have had enough of this game!"

"And if I choose not to?" she answered defiantly, hands on her hips. Káno's lips curled at the rebuke. "Then I will kill you where you stand, wench. The ceremony needs your blood, not your life."

Nesial nodded curtly, and knelt down beside her bag, removing the various components required for the potions she was to make. Glancing at Elros, she shook her head slightly, warning him to remain silent. Her heart was pounding in her chest – what she was about to do terrified her, but she had to do it; she had to keep her nerve and finish this once and for all. Perhaps Eärendil would return before they could kill her. Then again, perhaps he would not – and perhaps it would be better that way after all.

Elros watched wide eyed as Nesial set three small bowls down up on the scorched and now blood stained ground, and hastily began murmuring over them, mixing precise quantities of herbs whilst reciting ancient prayers. Káno took no notice of her, turning his attention instead to the half-elf bound before him. He removed a dagger from his belt, long and silver and curved, with an ornately carved ivory handle. It was almost a thing of beauty but in this man's hands such aesthetics were lost to darkness. Slicing easily through the arm of Elros' shirt, he drew a long crimson line down his forearm. Drops of blood coursed from the wound, and Káno caught them in a small glass phial, squeezing the wound painfully and eliciting a suppressed hiss from his victim.

"Here wench – I have your ingredient," he said, roughly shoving it into her hands. Glaring at him, she took the phial and poured a little of the blood into two of the bowls. Over the remaining bowl she pricked her own palm with the dagger that Káno handed her, before returning it to him.

"Your turn," she said, smiling sweetly, as she allowed her blood to drop into the final bowl. With a wordless sneer Káno mimicked her, driving his nails into his palm as he squeezed his hand tight. There was a breathless pause as Nesial closed her eyes, rotating her hands in small circles above the bowls and whispering long forgotten prayers.

"Is it done?" he whispered urgently, breathing down her neck.

"Almost," she answered curtly, turning away from him and busying herself once more. The liquids in each of the bowls were different – one was acidic green, one was like dark moss and the third was pale like rose water, coloured by Nesial and Káno's blood. Finally, steeling her resolve, Nesial rose to her feet, balancing the three bowls in her hands. She handed the green one to Káno and kept the moss one for herself, whilst the third bowl she handed to one of the surrounding men and motioned for him to administer it to Elros. The young man eyed the approaching substance warily – he wanted to believe in Nesial, to trust that she knew what she was doing but still, he did not relish the idea of drinking her blood.

Káno practically snatched the bowl from her hands, staring suspiciously at the lurid liquid. "You are sure you have done this correctly?" His eyes narrowed at her, seeking any sign of betrayal.

"Well we'll soon find out, won't we?" she hissed in reply, before tipping her head back and draining her bowl of the dark green water. It was faintly bitter on her lips, laced with the iron taste of Elros' blood. Nodding for his men to force the liquid down Elros' throat, Káno up-ended his own bowl and swallowed the contents. It burnt his mouth like fire, searing down his throat, but he would not let up until every drop was gone. Nesial watched him cautiously, wondering what would happen.

Elros struggled slightly against being force fed, but the combination of his wound, the restraints and Nesial's warning look overcame his attempts and placing his trust at last in this near stranger, he allowed himself to ingest the potion. He thought it tasted suspiciously what it looked like – blood and water. He could also catch the faint taste of something familiar that he couldn't quite name.

All three of them finished, Káno lifted his arms to the heavens, a swift wind rising about him and whipping his hair across his face.

Aloud he cried in a language foreign to Elros' ears – it was neither harsh nor fair, but had a recognizable rhythm to it as Káno began to speak the ancient spells that would release him from his bonds forever. He could feel the potion pumping through his veins, the blood of the elf before him lending strength to his voice. Yes, he could feel it now! The ever shadowed, swirling winds of his own existence, his own people – their voices called out to him from beyond the brink, drawing him to them – and with every moment he felt his strength growing he knew that Elros would grow weaker as he drained the life essence from him, turning his heart slowly to stone.

He turned to face Nesial, a great leering smile on his face, expecting to see her in the same reveling ecstasy as him – and was shocked to see her standing quite still, arms held across her chest. Her face was set and unreadable, her eyes as stony as the statues next to them. Doubt stole into his heart as the smile dropped from his face. The question stood unspoken in his eyes.

The look she gave him was sad and triumphant and longing, all at the same time; and in that moment he knew she had betrayed him, and he knew he was undone. A mirthless smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she shook her head in silent acknowledgement.

Elros watched the mute exchange in apprehension. The potion had, as far as he was aware, done nothing to him. In fact, he was beginning to feel slightly better, his vision clearer and his balance more stable.

Suddenly, Káno's face contorted with agony and rage, the muscles in his neck straining to be released from their fleshy prison. His limbs began to spasm of their own accord, jerking him painfully from left to right, and an unbidden scream was rent from his lips. His men started backward, eyeing their master fearfully, unsure what to do, whether to aid him.

"Do not bother," Nesial said coldly. "Turn and run whilst you still can, your Master cannot save you now."

"No!" Káno screamed, finally realizing too late how fully she had betrayed him. "Attack – her!" he tried to force out, but his throat clenched, his air pipe tightening as the poison Nesial had laced in his potion took effect. His men finally broke ranks and taking Nesial's advise fled down the steep hill into the night.

"How does it feel, Káno?" she whispered, watching him writhe and fall to one knee as he struggled to breathe for air. "Ironic, do you not think? To die all alone, by the very poison with which you break the souls of those around you."

Káno's bloodshot eyes went wide, staring at her wildly as wave after wave of unbearable pain swept through his body.

"Pure, concentrated Darquaril, Káno; undiluted and directly ingested. You are dying by your own fell hand. How does it feel?" Her words were ice as she faced him, unflinching.

"What – what are you doing to him?" gasped Elros; "What have you done?" He hated this man, he truly did – for what he had done to his brother, for what he had nearly done to him – but neither did he wish to watch this horrific unfolding of events. Yet his bonds did not allow him to move and his eyes were fixed unblinkingly on the form of the dying man.

The compassion in his voice seemed to break the spell that had fallen over Nesial. Hurrying towards him with sorrowful eyes, she swiftly cut the ropes holding him and helped him to his feet.

"It had to be done," she said softly, her eyes begging his forgiveness. "I put healing herbs in yours, but I poisoned his potion...There was no other way – "

She was cut off as Káno screamed again, clawing at his own skin, leaving deep scarlet gorges. With the last remaining strength he had, he lunged at Elros like a crazed animal – but Nesial knocked the half-mortal aside, taking the blow herself and suddenly the pair were falling, tumbling over and rolling down the hill. Elros pulled himself back to his feet where Nesial had pushed him and limped down the hill after them, his left arm clutching tightly to his right side. Káno's screams continued to echo around the hills as they gained momentum, flying through the silver green grasses.

Finally reaching the bottom, Káno's dead weight pinned a winded Nesial to the floor. As she struggled for breath, his manic serpentine eyes met hers one final time. She watched in shame and terror as the timeless life bound within those mortal constraints finally began to fade, and loneliness clutched at her heart. A sob escaped her lips even as a cruel, lingering smile escaped Káno's.

"All this world will pass you by – you will die alone wench," he rasped, his white blonde hair a tangle about his unrecognisably tortured face. For the briefest of seconds she creased her brows in confusion, and she did not hear Elros' warning cry – until she felt the cold bite of his steel dagger plunge deep into her side. For a second she froze, her own heartbeat pounding in her ears the only noise.

"And so it ends..." Káno whispered his final words, before strength finally fled him and he slumped lifeless upon her mortally wounded body.

Hurtling to her, Elros shoved Káno's motionless body with such force that it rolled several feet away, revealing the huge dark stain spreading rapidly across Nesial's belly. Her eyes were wide and scared, seeking out Elros' stormy grey. Her mouth gaped wordlessly, a small moan escaping from her throat.

"Stay with me," Elros said desperately, ripping the shredded sleeve of his shirt off completely and pressing it urgently to the wound. "Stay with me, Nesial, help will come, I promise..."

She raised a pale slender hand up to his face, touching his cheek softly. "Perhaps – this is for the – best," she ground out. She had felt pain before, but never anything like this – it hurt yes, but it was also numbing somehow. _This is what dying feels like_, she realised, and suddenly was not afraid anymore.

"No – no, don't you dare give up on me! Not now!" Elros said, panic in his voice as he saw a complacent light fill her black eyes. "Nesial, hold on, just _hold__ on_!"

"So much – irrepressible hope for – such a young man...It's alright," she breathed. "I am not afraid." A soft smile touched her lips.

"Well I am," Elros replied stubbornly. _Where are you, __Ada__?_ he thought frantically, _I need you, come to me as you did before..._

As if summoned by his thoughts, a small band of riders led by Oslarn rounded the hill and seeing Elros, drew to an abrupt halt.

"Elros? Is it you? Are you hurt?" the Captain asked, swinging down from his saddle and hurrying to the side of his Lord's son.

"A little, but it will heal – Nesial needs attention, now!" Elros turned frantic eyes upon the older man, seeking guidance and resolve where his own was failing him.

Oslarn looked with dismay at the freely weeping wound, briefly meeting Nesial's eyes. She nodded slightly at him, and he held his hand over his heart in silence.

"No!" Elros screamed, pulling away as Oslarn's free hand came to rest about his shoulders. "NO!"

"Elros, this wound is beyond my skill to heal, there is nothing we can do"-

"Then take her to my father, to my mother! They will be able to help, I know it!" Elros stumbled backward slightly, stress and blood loss and weariness stealing away his strength. Oslarn frowned at the wound the young man hid between pale, shaking fingers.

"We need to see to you before we go anywhere," Oslarn answered firmly.

"_No_," Elros said again, summoning to his voice every ounce of command that he could. "No. If it were not for this woman, neither I nor my brother would be alive now. We owe her our lives – the least we can do is save hers. I shall not be swayed from this path, Oslarn, though you should send all the hosts of the Valar against me. Now get her on a damned horse!"

Oslarn rocked backwards at the force in the half-mortal's voice; this young man, with eyes of stormy seas and crashing stars, who would one day stand as an image of the splendour of the Kings of Men in undimmed glory, whose lineage was of Beren himself, and of the highest Houses of the Noldor and Teleri. Stumbling to his feet, Oslarn could do nothing but obey.

"Bring two horses!" he cried. "We ride with all speed for our Lord!"

**Epilogue**

It was spring. The sky was littered with crisp cotton clouds, stark against bright blue above the calm lulling sea. Fresh green buds danced on the lithe branches of silver birch trees, and the air was alive with the calling of infant birds – waders tended to their young in the marshes of the Great River Sirion, the blackbirds nested in thickets and high upon the sheer white cliffs, the gulls made their homes among the craggy rocks.

Across a gentle green hill, a lone figure headed for those very cliffs. Leaning heavily upon a wooden stick, it limped slightly as it went, taking the smoothest route and avoiding thick tufts of grass that arose in its way. Though it was spring, a brisk chill yet lay upon the wind and the figure hugged its thick woollen cloak close about it. It had long given up on the hood though – the wind made for a tireless adversary, and a tumble of copper curls gleamed in the fresh sunlight.

Nesial edged closer to the cliffs, deep in thought. She often came this way, to gaze across the Sundering Seas. She knew the stories of the Undying Lands of Valinor; she had heard many tales since the Noldor's arrival of the healing wonder that could be found there. Now she wondered if such a place could be found for her. Sighing, she leant more heavily upon her stick as she made her last journey to the cliff top. All winter she had remained in the village, gradually healing and regaining her strength. The fact she had survived at all was nothing short of a miracle, but Elwing's healing hands had nursed her away from the brink of death – a brink she had been so at peace with reaching. Then it had felt strange to be so weak, and limitlessly frustrating to watch the slow progress with which her body improved. _I shall have to get used to that_, she thought ruefully.

Now it was spring, and time to be moving on. She could not explain how she knew that, or why, only that she did. The coast had been increasingly harassed lately by various parties from further inland, each seeking shelter from the indomitable shadow in the north. She knew that the peaceful watch under which this village slept would not long last, and then...she could not say. Only that it was not her place to remain here.

Reaching the cliff top, she stopped awhile, staring out across the vast grey ocean that seemed to go on before her forever. Little white-sailed fishing ships littered the bay, rolling on the gentle swash. As steep as it seemed, a path there was that hugged to the face of the cliff and so came to a silver beach below that curved around to the bay and the village. And casting her eyes downwards, it was upon this beach that Nesial espied two dark figures, side by side upon the sand.

The twins sat in comfortable silence, their dark hair catching the pale sunlight in a shine of rich autumn brown. Elros sat leaning back on his hands, his long booted legs stretched out before him as he watched the fishing boats and the gulls wheeling above the bay. Elrond however sat with his legs crossed, his eyes gazing far beyond the images in front of him.

Elros glanced at him quickly, not wishing to be caught. It seemed to him that an age beyond his years had settled upon his brother's shoulders in the last long, six months and it troubled him more than he wanted to say. That identical pair of eyes that had so often before been filled with joy and laughter were now turned more and more often in silence to the sea. Elros often thought that he must be searching the distant horizon for the golden sails of their father's ship, Vingilot. Exactly if that was true though, Elrond had never offered to tell him, and Elros was reluctant to ask.

It struck him as odd. Before...well, before everything, neither twin had had a thought between them that the other did not know. Yet now...Elros knew that there was a part of Elrond's heart that was secret from him. The wounds upon Elrond's body had healed with time, and now only faint scars were left. His mind was a different matter altogether. Whatever foul arts Káno had used to subdue his twin had left their mark upon his soul, and that shadow would not be cast aside so easily.

"Nesial is on the cliff top," Elrond said quietly, starting Elros out of his reverie. Glancing upwards, he saw it to be true.

"She is leaving today, isn't she?"

Elrond nodded in response and sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair.

"Does – does it still hurt?" Elros asked hesitantly, swallowing hard. He desperately wanted his twin to heal, to forget the horrors he had been subjected to, but he was even more afraid of losing him forever.

Elrond looked at him sharply. Elros held his gaze, matched and unwavering. Slowly, Elrond nodded again.

"Every day," he breathed, picking up the silver sand and watching it run through his fingers. Elros scooted close to his side. Wrapping one arm around his twin's shoulders, he pressed their temples together and took one of his brother's hands in his own. Taking a deep shuddering breath, Elrond leant back into the embrace but remained silent, fighting the lump in his throat.

"Do you want to talk?" Elros asked simply. Elrond had been so silent for so long...a part of him didn't think he was ever going to open up.

Nodding into his twin, Elrond sighed again. "I just want it to stop," he said, and the pain in his voice brought tears to Elros' eyes. "Every time I dream, I see his face..." He stopped, trying to keep his breathing steady. "He broke me, brother," he whispered despairingly. "He made me want to die...I lost myself, El." Pulling away slightly, he looked at his brother with weary, pained eyes. "What if I can never find myself again?"

"Then _I_ will find you, Elrond," Elros answered fiercely, his own tears barely contained but his voice strong. "I will _always_ find you, wherever you go, whatever you do, and you will never, ever be alone again. I promise you."

Despite himself, Elrond smiled wanly at his brother's assuredness. "What if you are not always here?" he answered with a cryptic question, settling back against his brother. In the pause that followed, he added, "It will take longer than the span of a mortal life to heal these wounds, Elros. Perhaps that it is folly, or perhaps it is the foresight of our ancestors – either way, I know it to be true."

Elros frowned, but did not reply immediately. "There is only one thing that could ever stop me coming to you, brother," he said slowly. "And of that great divide I will not speak."

They fell silent again; and to each it suddenly seemed as though something were coming...some dark shadow was fast approaching, unheralded and unlooked for, that would change everything forever – including them.

It was Nesial's soft, uneven footfalls on the sand that finally caused them to reluctantly stir. Pulling away from his brother, Elros stood to greet her, offering a shoulder for her to lean on. He knew that despite her best efforts to conceal it, her old wound still made her tired. In his heart, he was not convinced she was yet well enough to be leaving them at all, but try telling her that.

"Oh, do not worry about me, Master Elros," she smiled, declining the offer. "Though you can be of use to me – run along and check everything is ready for my departure, would you, Elf-Boy?"

Elros rolled his eyes, glancing down at his twin at the retort.

"Don't worry – I'm sure your brother can help me find my way back."

Elros nodding slowly, understanding what she meant. "I will see you both soon, then," he said and set off at a brisk pace along the beach, just along the white line where the sea broke upon the sand.

Elrond watched his brother go in silence, feeling the weight of Nesial's gaze upon him but unwilling to face it.

"You've been avoiding me," she said. It was not a question.

"You have been healing."

"So have you."

A pause. "Come on Elf-Boy, on your feet," she sighed, reaching a hand down to him. "No time like the present, ey?"

Grudgingly taking it, he hauled himself to his feet. "You cannot give us both the same nickname, you know."

She laughed at the mild look of disdain on his face as they set off, him turning a smooth grey pebble over and over in his hands, her limping along with her stick. "No I suppose I can't," she agreed. "Though truth be told, it's not entirely true of him...there is more of the Elf in you, I think."

"We're twins," he reminded her pointedly, keeping a slow pace along side her. He frowned at the way the comment spoke to his heart, but said nothing.

"Well, have it your way," she shrugged dismissively, gazing out to sea again. "How long do you think your father will be gone this time?"

"Who knows?" Elrond gestured vaguely with his hands. "A week, a month – a year? It's impossible to tell. He is seeking the way to Valinor."

"Good bloody luck to him," Nesial muttered. Elrond shot her a sharp look.

"You do not believe he will do it?"

"I don't know. It's irrelevant to me, really."

Silence fell between them as they went on their way.

"So what of you, then?" Elrond finally asked. "Where will you go now that – " He stopped himself short and took a deep breath, clutching the pebble tight within his fist, actions that Nesial's sharp eyes did not miss.

"Now that I have no people, no path to follow?" She finished the sentence for him, and paused before replying. "Well, Master Elrond – in situations such as this, one often finds one must make ones own path."

"But will you not be lonely?" he questioned, gazing at her with open curiosity.

"Probably," she nodded, "for a while. But I'm sure my enviable social skills will ensure that is not a permanent factor for me to contend with, as you can only agree." She winked at him from the corner of her eye.

A question that had been simmering in his mind for some weeks now finally broke the surface. "Nesial – when Káno died...what happened to his spirit?"

"His original essence, you mean?" She pondered before responding. "I do not know," she answered truthfully. "Perhaps his fate is the same as that of mortal men, to pass beyond the bonds of the world. Least ways, I have not heard of any of my people resting in Mandos' Halls."

"What of you?" Elrond asked hesitantly. Again, she paused before replying. "Only time will tell," she said simply. "We were never meant to be immortal in this form, I think...neither do I know how long it will last. No one has ever lingered long enough to find out. Makes me something of an experiment, don't you think?" She brushed the topic off with a light smile. Elrond furrowed his brows, deep in thought, and did not respond.

"So where will you head?" He returned to his original question after a brief silence.

She chewed her lip, considering for a moment. "East," she said finally. "So many feet seem to have been bent westward these past few centuries, and look at the trouble it's brought them." She smiled ruefully. "I will go east, and see what fortune has in store for me."

"That is a very vague plan," Elrond pointed out.

"Have you a better one?"

"You could stay here," he suggested quietly. For a while longer they continued in peace. The village was in full view of the beach now, though still out of earshot. Nesial stopped walking and Elrond mimicked her stance as she turned to face him.

"My place is not here, Elf-Boy – I'm not entirely sure _where_ it is, but it isn't here."

Elrond nodded, knowing it to be truth. "This is good bye then," he said sadly.

"For now," she smiled. "But my heart tells me our paths will cross again, some day."

"You believe you will meet us again?" Elrond hitched an eyebrow, not realising what she meant.

"Not 'us', Elf-Boy; I cannot see that I will ever meet your brother again..." She paused, slightly bothered. _His path his hidden from my heart, _she thought, but did not trouble Elrond with her words. A smile brightened her worn face once more. "But something tells me _we_ have not seen the last of each other."

"I don't understand." Elrond stared at her openly.

"Neither do I, Elf-boy!" she grinned, and taking his arm in hers, they made their final way up the beach to the village. Just before they entered the village, she turned to him again, gripping his arm tight. Her face was earnest, her eyes sincere. "It will get better, Elrond," she promised.

"What will?" he started. _Confounded, bloody cryptic woman..._ He almost smiled to find himself thinking what he had first thought of her, all those months ago.

"The pain," she said simply. He froze, staring wide-eyed at her, but did not speak. She took that as leave enough to continue. "The path laid before your feet is not an easy one, Peredhil; you will face many hard trials in your life. But you will always come through," she smiled. "You are an inextinguishable flame."

Leaving him where he stood rooted to the spot she carried on into the village, humming slightly to herself, the spring breeze playing in her hair, smilingly inwardly at her newfound fortune telling. _Perhaps that could be a career path..._

Elrond stared after her. He wanted what she said to be true, more than he could express...but could it really be so? Could he ever really go back to being the way he once was?

In the village centre, Nesial found Elros checking the last of the trappings on the cart to which Hythel was attached. The roan mare swished her tail unaffectedly as he ran his hands swiftly over her harness, making Nesial smile. It was the sound of her stick that alerted him to her presence.

"All ready are we?" she said, patting Hythel's rump.

"All your supplies and belongings are loaded," he nodded. "Are you sure you don't want a guard upon the road?"

"Entirely unnecessary, I assure you," she chuckled. "You would do better to feel sorry for anyone unfortunate enough to run into me."

"Believe me, I do," he said, rolling his eyes. "Let me help you up."

Offering his shoulder, he aided her up onto the cart's seat and handed her the reins. As she went to take them, her hand nudged her stick and sent it clattering to the floor.

"Damned thing," she muttered, reaching down for it.

"Don't worry, I'll get it," said Elros quickly, but was beaten to it by a pair of hands identical to his own. Finding Elrond's eyes, he fixed him with a questioning glance, which was returned with the first genuine smile Elros had seen on his twin's face in months.

"Here, allow me," he said, handing it back to Nesial. "Thank you – for everything."

"Thank _you_," she emphasised. "And thank your mother again for me."

"We will," Elros promised, leaning an elbow on his twin's shoulder. Elrond stood square to better hold his brother's weight.

Nesial snapped at the reins, starting Hythel forward with the cart lumbering after her.

"Goodbye, sons of Eärendil!" she called.

"Nai tiruvantel ar varyuvantel i Valar tielyanna nu vilya," Elrond called after her, "May the Valar protect you on your path under the sky."

"Don't be so pretentious..." she called back, causing the twins to laugh as they watched her wind her way up and out of the village. As she crested the hill, she paused a moment and waved back down at them. So much had changed...not least herself. She could only go forward now – and from there, who could say? With a final wave, she started off again, and just like that she was gone from the twins' lives.

The pair stood staring after the space on the hill where she had disappeared, each taking comfort in the presence of the other.

"Do you know what I haven't done in months?" Elrond said suddenly.

"Had a bath?" Elros retorted, dodging the hand Elrond swatted at his head with a mischievous grin.

"No – beaten you at archery!"

"Fancy trying your luck?" challenged Elros, and set off at a run for their home, Elrond hot on his heels. Things could never go back to the way they had been, he knew; but he could move on and be better for it. Nesial was right – he was an inextinguishable flame. They had their whole lives ahead of them and no shadow would ever darken that. As they ran, Elrond felt his heart lift in the salty breeze, lighter than it had felt in months.

Yet fate keeps strange company...That very same breeze, only a weeks journey north along the coast, also blew wild around a great armoured host. At its head rode four warriors – four brothers, remaining of seven. Their fiery hair flowed down their shoulders and their horses golden hooves gleamed in the sunlight as they marched ever southward, come at last to fulfil their oath...

**END**

**Well, there we have it! The end of an era, on many levels! Just a quick FYI; I will be doing a sequel to this fic, but it will also stand as a sequel to _Lullaby of the Lily Flower_, making it a sort of trilogy of sorts. It will also therefore be set towards the end of the Third Age and will come under LotR as opposed to The Silm. Expect it out within the next month or so at the latest!! (In light of that, I have noticed a fair few errors in previous chapters where I have read it back, which I will be going over and correcting in the near future, just to make reading smoother).**

**Well, I think that is everything – so I hope you've enjoyed the journey, and thank you for reading.**

**Loadsa**** love, Estel xxx**


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